Hello 10 years...you suck

10 years is long enough to finally bare it all.

The wine I am drinking right now will help encourage me to be honest.

September 2007 I was living the best life. I was married. I was pregnant. I worked at the best place in the world. I was afraid to be a mom at that time. I took weekly picture of my never-growing belly. A red flag down the line. Something I subconsciously chose to ignore at the time.

I was asked to do an AFP screening. A typical screening, but I was hesitant.

“You’ll want to know sooner than later, Ria,” my mom mentioned, “In case something is wrong, you’ll want the best care possible right up front.” How is it that my mother knew the inevitable without actually knowing the inevitable?

I agreed. And I got that call. At work. “Nothing to worry about,” said my OB, “We just need to do further testing is all”. Ok. That I can do.

I spoke with a lot of parents that day. At my work, moms were encouraging. They told me they too had issues with AFP testing and it always turned out fine. <Phew!> That is a relief.

I had my level 2 ultrasound scheduled that next day. Why so quick to rush? I wondered this to myself. They rush, when it is emergent, I would soon learn.

That visit. Fuck. It was hard. It was the first real test Adam and I went through. As a couple, we had to be strong enough to support the other yet vulnerable enough to let the other take care of us. We made jokes even in that room. That’s when that rule of our marriage flourished and became known. We laugh about EVERYTHING. The good stuff, the bad stuff, everything in between. And it began in that room. When we were getting the worst news ever.

“Your baby has an enlarged heart. There is fluid around it which indicates heart failure. There is no bladder and the baby is missing a kidney. They will die soon.”

Fuck.