Ultrasound

We got to see our girl again today. She is so beautiful.

It was pretty emotional. I suppose bittersweet is a good word. At one point the ultrasound technician asked if I was okay. "They're happy tears," I choked out. It was half true. I'm still praying fervently that she will be born alive and we'll get to see her look at us and feel her little fingers wrap around ours, but I am well aware of that 50% chance of stillbirth looming over us. If that happens, this might be the last time we'd get to "see" her alive. I couldn't get enough of her.

Her little heart was beating. Her arms were sometimes reaching for her feet and sometimes up by her face. She hiccuped at one point. She looked so perfect. It's hard to believe there is so much wrong when she seems so strong. Questionable hypoplasia. Cleft lip. Cleft palate. Questionable smaller left ventricle. Abnormal cardiac position. Abnormal stomach position. Abnormal left kidney. Abnormal umbilical cord. So many problems for such a perfect-looking little person.

The technician was so good and so kind. She gave us permission to record a little bit, even though it's against hospital rules. She printed off beautiful pictures for us. I couldn't stop staring at them. Now they're hanging on our refrigerator so I can see them every day.

The doctor was positive. My body is doing it's job, producing the fluids and nutrients Maren needs. She's right on target for growth, which the doctor said is surprising since Trisomy 13 babies are often smaller than normal.

I asked a hard question I've been thinking about. Well, I kind of asked. Trying not to burst into tears, it didn't come out too eloquently. I wondered, though, if Maren's inevitable death could mean life for someone else. Our doctor quickly shot down the idea of organ donation. With her chromosomal abnormalities, there's nothing they can use. A part of me is relieved -- the thought of sending my tiny, beautiful child into post-mortem surgery for organ harvesting is heartbreaking -- but a part of me would have been comforted knowing that some part of her lived on in some other child.

The doctor seems hopeful -- she asked us to schedule appointments every two weeks for the next two months. We'll just keep praying and counting kicks . . . and staring at those photos on our fridge.