My English Narrative Paper about the day I found out about Lexi's Anencephaly.

Those of you who know me know that I have started going to school this semester. One of the classes I'm taking is English 1010 that's about writing and becoming a better writer. Our very first assignment was a narrative paper. Our teacher wanted us to write about an event in our lives that had a big impact. It was a no brainer for me on what my topic was going to be about, but to condense it to the page requirement I had to choose just one specific thing to talk about. So I choose to talk about the day of the ultrasound when I found out about Alexis and her Anencephaly. I wrote about the day of her ultrasound check up on my blog already, but I decided to go ahead and post my paper as well, because it gives a lot more detail and its a record I always want to have. I haven't actually turned in my final paper yet, it's due tomorrow, but I decided to go ahead and post in anyway. Hopefully I get a good grade on it haha. I hope you enjoy reading!

My Anencephaly Journey

            March 14^th 2012, is a date that will forever be embedded in my timeline of memories. Many happy things took place around this day. It was the day before my sons second birthday, the day before I was to embark on my very first cruise ship and, most importantly, it marked the day of my 19 week ultrasound of my third child. But the part that will always be embedded is it was also the day I became familiar with the word Anencephaly. At the beginning of the day it was a word I had never even heard of, but by the end of the day it was a word I will never forget.

            When I woke up that morning, I was very excited for what this day was going to bring. I quickly got my two kids, Paige and Landen, ready for the day. Later that afternoon when my husband, Josh, got off work we were going to take Landen to my sister in-laws and Paige was going to go with us to the ultrasound appointment.

 “Come on, Paige, hurry! Get in the car,” I hollered with delight to my four-year-old daughter. “It’s time to go find out if you’re going to have another baby brother or a baby sister!” I beamed. The excitement in my voice couldn’t have echoed any more loudly. Even though this was my third pregnancy, it felt like a first all over again. On the way to the doctor’s office we played “guess what the baby is” games and the car was filled with overwhelming joy, laughter, and excitement. But as we were getting closer to the hospital something inside me was starting to make me feel anxious. Things suddenly weren’t feeling right and I began to feel worried. I wasn’t sure where these feelings were coming from so I just brushed them off and identified them as my nerves. As we pulled into the parking lot my anticipation was growing, my nerves were bouncing and the next thing I knew, I was laying on a bed in the doctor’s office, with my pants folded down, my top tucked up, exposing my middle region. It wasn’t my ideal position to be in, but if this meant I was one step closer to finding out the sex of my baby then I was ready.

Now that I was settled on the bed I began to take notice to my surroundings. The ginormous screen mounted on the wall directly in front of me instantly captured my attention. It had to be at least 40”, though I don’t know the true size to be exact. Not that it necessarily mattered anyway. While deep in my thoughts staring at the blank screen, though it’d only been a few seconds, I was suddenly startled by a think substance that felt warm and runny as it started sliding down my stretch-marked belly that looked like it had never seen the sun. It wasn’t until I felt the warmth of the lubrication on my belly that I realized my hands were ice cold and felt as if they had been sitting in a freezer. This always seems to happen when I’m really nervous. Then the tech pulled out this long device that resembled a trigger stick on an arcade game and started moving it swiftly about my belly in vigorous motions like she was trying to win the game. She moved quickly about taking measurements and documenting the routine things she needed. My heart would start pounding with excitement as I saw parts of my baby I could identify. First, we spotted her feet, which were so cute and petite. Then I could see her legs, she had one crossed in front of the other, being so modest, which made me guess maybe it was a girl, but the tech hadn’t confirmed the sex quite yet. Then we saw her arms, shoulders, and face. My daughter Paige was jumping up and down and full of giggles and excitement. She started playing, “Peek-a-boo” with the baby. I was grinning from ear to ear as I was a proud mother watching my oldest child play with her new baby brother or sister.

As I was watching Paige I started wondering why it was taking so long for the tech to tell us the sex, but then she must have read my mind because all of a sudden she says “It’s a girl.” She didn’t say it with the enthusiasm that they usually use when they’re making such an anticipated announcement and that struck me as kind of odd. Then I realized this tech has been very silent throughout this whole checkup and has hardly said a word. That’s when my heart started racing and I could feel the blood pumping through my veins. While overhearing my husband talking to Paige about her new baby sister I started focus my attention more on the giant screen in front of me. I began to recall the things I knew we’d seen; arms, legs, heartbeat, face, so what was left? Then I realized, we haven’t gotten the all too common profile picture yet. I knew the tech was looking at her head, but I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t make out her profile, not well, anyway. Then the tech spoke, interrupting my thoughts, “I need to go get the doctor.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” both Josh and I quickly asked. “It’s the skull. It appears to be missing. I’ll be right back with the doctor.” And that was it. She quickly left the room with the door closing swiftly behind her. Suddenly things felt very unreal almost like I was dreaming and all I wanted to do was pinch myself and wake up from this horrible nightmare. None of this could be happening. Not to me. Not to my family.

I looked over to my husband who also had an appearance of shock on his face. Both of us had the same bewildering question in our minds, you can’t survive without a skull, can you? Just then the doctor came in. Within seconds he confirmed my unborn child, but still my flesh and blood, did not have a skull. And there was more, she also had no brain. She had all her facial features, a perfect beating heart, and everything else that makes a body perfect, but without a skull cap and without a brain, her condition was fatal. Zero chance of survival. Just then, as I was processing all this information, my little baby girl decided to move and give me a little kick, it was like she was giving me a nudge to say, Hey mom it’s okay, I’m still here. I’m the exact same little girl I was before you walked into this room. I haven’t changed. I haven’t left you. Not yet. The doctor noted if I chose to go full term my baby may be still born, may live a few minutes, to a few hours, to maybe a few days at best, but that was highly unlikely. Then he concluded with, this condition is known as Anencephaly.

It wasn’t until that moment that I even realized they had a box of tissues in the room, but now I know why they do. Results from ultrasounds aren’t always good news, it’s not just about finding out if it’s a boy or a girl. My husband and I thanked the doctor for his services and left in somewhat of a hurry. I just wanted to get out of there fast and remove myself from the situation.

When I stepped out into the fresh air I thought I would feel like I was set free, but it was just the opposite. The news that was given to me in the room stuck to me like a nasty leech that was sucking the life out of me and was never going to let go. What was once a big world that was so fast paste and lively was now a tiny prison where time stood still and I felt completely isolated and alone. My once full heart felt as though it had been torn to pieces and left to empty. As soon as I got home from the hospital I began to Google Anencephaly. I still wasn’t quite sure what Anencephaly really was. Searching the internet probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do because there were images that were horrifying and something I probably wasn’t ready to see. Being overwhelmed and flooded with all these emotions I couldn’t help but break down. Just then Josh embraced me and let me cry my salty tears all over his favorite Hurley t-shirt. He was strong for me and just held me in his muscular arms and gave me a tight squeeze, not too much to suffocate me, but enough to let me know he was there and he was never going to leave my side. We were going to go through this journey together. We were going to carry our baby girl to full-term and we were going to cherish every last waking moment we had with her. Every kick, every heartbeat we heard on the Doppler, and every hiccup wasn’t going to pass us unnoticed, we were going to celebrate her life while she was still here with us.

 

Since my oldest daughter was with us when we got the news we felt it appropriate to briefly, on a level a four-year-old would understand, explain what was going on with her baby sister. Later that night when I thought I was alone and drowning in my tears, she snuck into my room, plopped into my lap, looked up at me with her big soft brown eyes and said, “It’s okay, Mommy. Everything will be okay.” Then she wrapped her little arms all the way around me.

 

In that moment, looking into my oldest daughters sweet innocent eyes and with her brownish red hair draped around her face and hearing those sweet simple words of faith come out of her tiny mouth, I knew without a doubt, though it wasn’t going to be easy, that in the end everything would be okay.

 

It is now February 8, 2013 and it has been about 6 1/2 months since I delivered my guardian angel, whom we named Alexis Ann. Our time with her was very short, as was to be expected, but in those few precious hours when she was in my arms, Alexis taught me more than any other person ever could about life. Without even taking a breath she taught me about what true love is. Because of her I’m a better mother, wife, friend and neighbor. She opened up my eyes and made me realize I have a lot to give in this world, and I want to share it with others. Through her story, I’ve been able to reach out and help other mothers in a same or similar situation. Her story has touched the hearts of many, and I have to admit I’m one lucky mom to have been blessed with such an amazing spirit and to have such a special angel to watch over my family. So looking back, my sweet little 4-year-old daughter knew it all along, even when it felt like there was no hope at all, that, “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” And it is.