The Birth Defect Miracle, Part 1

Baby C at 14 Weeks

Yes, I said miracle. I don't feel worthy to have been the recipient of one, but I was, nonetheless, and I will be forever grateful for it.

At our 14 week appointment with our perinatologist on April 22nd, everything seemed to be going well until the end of the ultrasound when the technician said, "Unfortunately, I do see an abnormality with Baby C." Boy, talk about the earth suddenly ceasing to spin. She went on to explain that there was a defect in his abdominal wall and it appeared that his intestines were outside of his body. She said there were two types of this defect, gastroschisis and omphalocele  (no, I didn't have to look up how to spell them,  those words will be forever burned in my brain), and she couldn't tell yet which one it was, though she was leaning toward omphalocele.  I muttered a few "okay"s and "mm-hmm"s as she talked and showed us where the defect was on the screen. It was painfully obvious, even to my medically untrained eyes, that something was not right. My husband was silent and still and I felt strangely numb - like your heart was telling you it couldn't possibly be real but your brain knew it was.

She left me to get dressed while she went to talk to the doctor. My husband and I said very little - what is there to say when you get news like that, out of the blue? You are in such a state of shock that you can hardly think, let alone form coherent sentences or ask questions. And honestly, I was too afraid to ask questions anyway.

A few minutes later she came back in and instructed me to get back on the exam table, as the doctor wanted to see it on the live screen. He came in, she showed him the defect, and he gently said, "Well, this throws a wrench into our plans for this pregnancy." He then agreed with her that it was not clearly visible which kind of defect it was and that we would have to get a closer look in a couple of weeks when the babies were bigger. They left me to get dressed once again and then I was taken to his office to discuss what this all meant.

I love my high risk doctor. He is so soft spoken and gentle, while being blunt at the same time. Not many people possess that gift.  He actually of reminds me of the types of characters that the actor Jeff Goldblum plays - he speaks in that same low, monotonous but insanely intelligent tone of voice, and every once in a while lets something humorous and unexpected slip out.

There was no humor that day, however. He told me that he was "99% sure" Baby C had an abdominal wall defect, and then went on to explain the difference between gastroschisis and omphalocele. Now, again, I am medically uneducated, but here is my very basic paraphrasing of what he said. Basically, gastroschisis was the "good" kind of this defect and was fixable by surgery upon birth. Omphalocele, while also fixable by surgery, was often accompanied by chromosomal defects. This is what caused 99% of my stress in the following weeks, the worry that my baby would also have a chromosomal abnormality. No mother includes defects of any kind in her dreams about her children.

Then the doctor brought up the possibility of selective reduction. What? Was this really being said to us? It was like being caught in  a bad dream. At first I said, "I would never do that, unless there was severe danger to myself or the other babies". As soon as those words exited my mouth, I knew immediately in my heart that they were false. Selective reduction would never be my choice, regardless of the defect or danger. He assured me there was not any danger to the mother in these cases, but since Baby C is an identical twin, there could be life-threatening complications for his twin, Baby B, though at this point Baby B was fine.  I told my doctor, "I would rather lose all three babies than make the choice to not give one of them a chance at life." He seemed pleased with this answer and said, "I do believe that you will still take 3 healthy babies home from the hospital with you."  I told both him and my regular OB, whom I saw two days later, that I was choosing to put my babies in Gods' hands and the doctors' hands and that I would accept the outcome, whatever it was.

I raced home, as I was late meeting my students for piano lessons and had sent them all frantic, short texts from the office telling them to wait if possible. I was still in that numb, can-this-really-be-happening-please-somebody-tell-me-this-isn't-real state of mind. Even though it was the worst news I had ever received, I hadn't cried at all and I had no intention to until I was done teaching for the day and could have some time to myself. It was a defense mechanism, one I didn't really know I had until this happened.

Then one of my senior girls walked in, a girl I have taught for 12 years. She played a piano solo of "Be Still My Soul" and I could no longer hold back the tears, she played it so beautifully, and the words to the hymn kept running through my mind and straight into my heart:

Be still my soul, the Lord is on thy side
With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change he faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

I felt like this was Heavenly Father talking to me. I understood that Heavenly Father had a plan for my three little babies, and I knew that if He so desired, He could provide a miracle. I would love for that miracle to happen sooner rather than later, but I knew in His way, in His time, a miracle would indeed occur.

Baby A at 14 Weeks

Baby B at 14 Weeks