Please, Not My Baby

I had an OB appointment this morning. I thought it would be great! They had finally gotten me back within 15 minutes of my appt. time, I had only put on a pound from the month before, and I was feeling good.
It was a normal appointment till the end. "I didn't want to call, I wanted to tell you in person that your baby has cysts in his brain" said the doctor. "They are on the Choroid Plexus". The rest of the room blurred but her faced remained crystal clear. She continued on with various statistics, all of which were in my favor, but the only things I really managed to hear were, "brain...cysts...perinatologist...mental retardation...trisomy 18."
"Let me see if I can get you into the Perinatologist sometime today" said my doctor, "Grab a magazine, I'll be just a few minutes."
As soon as she shut the door, I was on the phone with Dave. I couldn't get the first three words out, "our baby has..." before I started crying. I quickly explained the situation to him and hung up in hopes I could get control before anyone came back in. No such luck. The doctor entered shortly thereafter to tell me there happened to be an opening right away at the hospital across the street. She gave me my first of many hugs.
The minute my foot was out the door, I was back on the phone with Dave. Forget control, at this point I was hoping he could simply understand the words I was saying. As I got the hospital, I dialed my sister. Explained it all over again, and continued to bawl. Same story went for the dear friend that I called to babysit so Dave could come be with me.
I registered, found the place I was going and started filling out the exorbitant amounts of paper work. In the meantime, I was on the phone with my mom. I wanted as many prayers as I could get. She reassured me by saying "I really feel that everything is ok, that all will be well". This took me back to a blessing I had at the beginning of this pregnancy. It has said, all will be well. The baby would be well. My thoughts then turned to my sister-in-law. She is mentally retarded and no one really knows why. Could it have been Chromosomal Defects which were indicated by Choroid Plexus Cysts which nobody saw? Maybe. Will my baby be the same? Maybe.
While I was on the phone with my mom, some kind lady in the waiting room deposited some kleenex on my lap. I WAS a mess after all.
"Thank you," I choked out to the woman after I had hung up with my mom. A couple of minutes later she approached my seat. "I know this might seem strange, but can I pray for you?" "Yes, please" I responded. She then knelt on the floor in front, of me, placing her hand on my stomach, and praying to "Father, God" in behalf of me and the baby. I have to admit, I was so taken aback that I wasn't sure how to feel in the moment. Awkward? Grateful? Humbled? Probably a little bit of everything.
When the waiting room was clear, the receptionist came around the corner of the desk with a cup and water and a huge hug. It was nice knowing there are still a lot of good people in the world.
Dave finally arrived, and shortly thereafter we were taken back.
Before that moment arrived, Dave and I had a tender conversation where I shared some feelings with him that I never thought I would vocalize. I told him how I really wanted the baby to be ok, but if not, would feel very blessed with a perfect child. One that Heavenly Father sent to me because I needed it, and not because the child had any reason to be on earth. "I almost don't want to say it for fear it will happen" I said, "but having a perfect soul sent to our family, or losing a child before eight would give me more than enough motivation to work hard enough to ensure I could be with them forever. If this child is THAT child, I will be ok. It would be so very hard, but is the anything better than knowing your child has it made?"
***
The tech started the ultrasound right away. The transducer went back and forth...back and forth...back and forth. I studied her face as she scrutinized the screen. She tilted her head. She furrowed her brows. She looked closer. Back and forth again. "I can't see anything," she said. I am trying to find a cyst and I can't.
Hoping she was as experienced as she seemed, I asked her, "so how long have you been doing this?"
"17 years."
"I've seen Choroid Plexus Cysts that are bigger than the Choroid Plexus itself."
I was so utterly relieved I felt weak. Almost sick even.
The scan took 30-40 minutes and all she could say was "you're baby looks healthy."
She went to get the doctor for a final say. The adorable doctor came in, "everything looks really good, but I'll take a look anyway." She proceeded with her quick scan and could say nothing but "the baby looks really good. He looks very healthy. I don't see anything wrong, anywhere".
At that moment, I felt extremely and utterly blessed. The cysts had gone away. My baby didn't look good... he looked Great!
The morning pretty much rocked my world, but I was grateful for the perspective it offered me, and the miracles I saw. Here is a sampling:
-Dave has worked enough last week that he had hours to spare this week. This never happens.
-I had the thought to schedule my appointment for 28 weeks as soon as I walked into the office. This spared me trying to set an appointment while bawling like a baby.
-My friend who babysat just happened to have completed her chores for the day before I even called her. She had, grocery shopped, shoveled the snow, and done laundry all before 10:00 am.
-My mascara has run out and I haven't been to the store to replace it yet (I've been meaning to do this for two weeks). Less mascara = less black smudges.
- The prayers I felt coming my way were truly, deeply, miraculous.
-I have a healthy baby and family.