Denver In Translation

Yesterday morning we headed out to the hospital for our first ultrasound of the baby. We were excited and nervous, ready to hear our child’s heartbeat for the first time. We sat in the room anxiously as the nurse prepared the machine. Camera in hand, I tried to prepare my mind for what would be the most proud day of my life. As she started the ultrasound we watched the screen. After a minute or so, we began to cry. Our tears, however, were not tears of joy, but grief. The nurse explained what was already evident on the screen: There was no baby. She explained that the gestation sac was probably not compatible with the baby and the baby probably stopped developing after 6 weeks.

So there we were, devastated and in utter disbelief. She led us to a room where we would talk to our doctor. The Doctor assured us that it was nothing that we did wrong but that it was somewhat common. We discussed the process from this point and she left us to grieve. We held each other, cried, prayed.

“It’s not our fault.”
“There’s no shame in this.”
“We’ll just try again soon.”

The first step out of that room was the most difficult step we had ever taken. It meant that this was all real. As long as we stayed in that little room, maybe there was a chance the doctor would come running in exclaiming that they had made a mistake. That step was acceptance of reality.

The “M” word.

It was a long walk back to the elevator and and a long drive home. Judi called her parents and delivered the news. When we got home I made her comfortable on the couch upstairs and I went to make phone calls. I sat on the floor of our closet and called our family.

Each one answered with, “How did the ultrasound go?!”
I replied to each with, “We got some bad news there.”

That’s all I could say before my speech was squelched with tears. After a little while Judi came and found me and we cried there together on our closet floor.

As I spoke to my younger brother, David, he encouraged me. He told me the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
“Your baby gets to grow up in heaven. And when you have another one, this one will be it’s guardian angel.”
I don’t know if it theologically correct and I really don’t care. It’s exactly what we needed to hear.

Throughout the day our family came over and we talked and cried together. As our heads hit the pillow that night I assured Judi,
“When we wake up tomorrow, it will be a little bit better than it was today. It has to be.”