I was pregnant with my second. The girl who once said “I never want kids, I never want to be married” was now pregnant with her second child. I had high hopes of having a girl. I waned the bows, tutus, dolls and dress up. As luck would have it, I was having a second boy. My oldest son in almost 5. He is from a previous relationship and totally not planned but is the greatest blessing I had ever received. The second, he was planned. I looked at Cody (my husband), plainly stated “I want another baby”, and as luck would have it, I got pregnant fairly quickly.
I will never forget how excited I was. I knew before I had even taken the test that I was pregnant. I remember telling him so vividly. I whispered it to him while he was talking to our roommate of the time. I think Cody shut the door in his face. We were both elated. I had the normal pregnancy. I was sick all the time, I silently cursed Cody for agreeing to getting me pregnant, and all I could do was sleep.
Around 20 weeks we had the big anatomy/gender ultrasound. The doctor confirmed we were having a boy (which launched the great name debate of 2015/2016). We left feeling confident even though she had scheduled another appointment to get a better look at his heart and spine. I (not so) patiently waited the four weeks. When we went back after four weeks, she stated things were fine and I was free to go. My midwife called me roughly a week later and informed me that the blood flow of his heart looked “backwards” and that we needed to be referred to a high risk doctor for an in-depth ultra sound. You guys, I lost it. I fell apart the second my husband walked in the door. I sobbed and sobbed. We went to the MFM doctor at 25 weeks. He assured us everything looked phenomenal, although Vince was on the bigger side and asked us to come back in 6 weeks for a growth scan.
We went back at 31 weeks and met with a different doctor. While he was doing the scan I noticed how quiet he was. Eventually he finally asked “Why were you guys asked to come back in again? For a growth scan?” We confirmed. At that point all I remember was hearing a bunch of medical terms I didn’t want to hear. Vascular ring, double aortic arch, potential for major problems once he was here. We were immediately scheduled for an appointment with a pediatric cardiologist and big decisions were made. I would need to be in Vegas at 36 weeks onward. I was to deliver down there with a high risk doctor, if he was “okay” at birth he was to stay in the NICU for 10 days while he learned to eat and grow.
Everything went according to plan. I flew to Vegas right after Easter and my wonderful family (shout out Morgans!!) took me in. They kept me sane. Hugs, food, laughter, tears, long talks. They were my rock when my husband couldn’t be there. He came down on the weekends. Once I met my high risk OB in Vegas, we set an induction date.
I’ll admit. The second we found out about Vincent’s heart, I shut down. Suddenly this baby that I loved and couldn’t wait to meet wasn’t real anymore. I didn’t want to decorate the nursery, paint, have a baby shower, anything. I was devastated. Let me say this, if you’re a mother who is currently pregnant, there is no shame in feeling this way. It’s terrifying not knowing if the baby you want so bad is ever going to become a reality. Your days become dark. Everyone around you wants to be your cheerleader and you want to tell everyone to kindly go away. (I was going to use stronger language, but I am sure my mother will appreciate me keeping a clean mouth.
Once I knew my induction date and my husband drove down to Vegas to be with me the last few days, I did EVERYTHING to get him to come. I was so anxious. I was ready to get the show on the road. Life as I knew it was about to change.