The last four days have probably been the most stressful and emotional of all the days in my 30 years so far.
My husband and I dropped Milla off at Granna and Poppy’s and off we went to have our 18-20 week ultrasound and a relaxing celebratory lunch.

Unfortunately it didn’t turn out as we had hoped.

About five minutes into the scan the sonographer stopped his happy explanation of all our baby’s bits and pieces and hovered over the same area for what seemed an eternity. My eyes were wide with terror and the look on my husband’s face showed that he too was concerned. The frowned look on the sonographer’s face did nothing to ease our minds either.
“Where are you having your baby?” I answered and explained that we were going public as the private hospital I had Milla at would not allow me to attempt a VBAC.
“Were there any problems with your first?” No.
Then he hit us with it. “There’s something here that just doesn’t appear to be normal. I want you to see your GP and get an appointment at the hospital to have blood tests and an amniocentisis.”

Being a Saturday we were not so hopeful that our GP would be working but my husband left the room to call him anyway.
I sat and waited and cried like a baby. This was not meant to happen. I was meant to walk out of here with the biggest grin on my face. This was supposed to be a positive experience.

While my husband was out of the room the sonographer told me that it would be best if we found out the gender. He said it may help us in the coming days – as though it helps people to grieve for their lost childen. I told him I wanted to speak to my husband about it because we had already decided that we would wait until his or her birth.

Thankfully our GP was there and told us to get to him straight away. I asked the sonographer to write the gender on a piece of paper so we could choose to see it in our own time and in our own way.

We saw our GP and he called the hospital. He discovered that we would have to wait until Monday to make appointments and another ultrasound couldn’t be done until Tuesday.

It was then 3 days of waiting, wondering, crying, and trying to remain positive…but in the back of our minds we couldn’t help but picture the worst scenario.

Finally Tuesday’s appointment came. We had another ultrasound and the woman was so lovely and positive and best of all…she said that we had the most gorgeous, healthy baby and we could go home and enjoy our pregnancy. Another specialist came in to give a third opinion and was happy with what he saw.
More tears followed as pure and utter relief washed over us. I cried for the pregnant women and their partners who didn’t get the same joyful results as we did.

We still have the baby’s gender written on that piece of paper and stuffed in an envelope – and we wonder if we should peek. The temptation is so strong, but no matter if it’s a boy or a girl, I have a healthy, normal baby growing inside me and that is all that matters to me right now.

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baby by amy