peter

Appointments at the midwives this go around are neither easy nor boring. Example: Peeing in a cup with a diaper bag and assistance from a one and a half year old.

But, I had been able to schedule this appointment for 8:40, giving us a good half hour before Anna’s morning nap time. Conditions were as ideal as possible. As we sat in the waiting room, she said hieee!! and waved to every single person coming in, buh bye! to those leaving. It was going to be a good visit.

Finally in the room, a midwife in training sat down with me to review how things were going. A page full of notes she’d taken when reviewing my file last night lay open on her lap.

 “So, things are going well? I see you are about 5 months along, congratulations! Have you been feeling baby move yet?” 

Yes, off and on, little flutters and tiny kicks. Nothing big or constant yet. 

“Oh, great! That’s always so fun when you can start to feel them in there. It’s like a whole other level of connection between mom and baby.”

Claudia, the actual midwife then came in, and after getting Anna situated on a chair with her milk, crackers, and a book, I laid down on the butcher papered table, ready to hear that little heart I already loved so dearly. 

“Mama!!!”  

Claudia pulled the chair over so Anna could stand right up next to the bed. The assistant began, pressing the tool gently against my skin. After a few minutes with no success, she handed it over to Claudia who began her search. “When was the last time you felt the baby move?” she asked casually.  I thought back. “Mmm, maybe a few days ago? It hasn’t been very consistent.” She pressed harder, more urgent. Back and forth, brows furrowed.  “Hmm. This is not a good sign.” And suddenly my heart stopped. 

What if there was no beat. 

She tried for a few more minutes, then slowly pulled the tool off, looked up at me. “We need to get you up to the hospital for an ultra sound right away.” I broke down. The assistant wasn’t sure what to do, and followed Claudia out of the room to go make me an appointment. Anna looked up. “Mama sad?” I sat up, wiped the jelly off my stomach, and pulled her close. Claudia came back into the room. Finding me in tears,  she now gave me a hug and I suddenly felt like a scared little child. 

“I am so so sorry. Do you have anyone that can go with you?”

 I thought through where my family would be at 9am on a Monday. No. 

“I’ll let the midwife on call know you’re coming and she can be with you. Ok? I am so sorry.”

And so I packed up the bottle, tiny books, and half eaten grahm crackers. My throat felt swollen shut, and the tears simply would not stop. Anna was genuinely confused at her mother behaving this way. I placed her in her familiar spot on my right hip, and together we walked back out into the world. “Mama’s doctor! Buh byeee!”

The buckles on her car seat felt extraordinarily difficult to find and fasten. She writhed and twisted, shouting every comfort command she knows: “Niu nai!! (milk, in chinese) Hug!! MAMA!!” I gave her her milk and a kiss, then pushed my seat back into position and climbed in. Right then, I knew.

I called Eric, praying he would answer even though he was teaching and would have his phone on silent. Nothing. Mom, Dad, Colin, no answer. Eric again and again.

I stared at my phone, deciding what to even say in a text to him. 

And then we were staring at the front doors of the University Hospital. This is where I will hear the news that my baby is dead. I steadied my breathing.

Maybe not, I thought. Maybe.