…or so my husband calls it.
“The beginning” could depend on what you want to hear/read – how far should I go back? To when I first found out we were pregnant? When we decided to have kids? When we got married? When we met?
“The beginning” in this case, according to my husband, goes back to an appointment from what I thought would be a seemingly predictable and normal ultrasound. My whole pregnancy I went through the normal symptoms: morning sickness, food aversions, swelling, and gestational diabetes. I was more or less considered “low risk” throughout my pregnancy and even passed the genetic diagnostic tests.
That is until we found out there was a slight abnormality. We were told by our Doc that our baby’s femur was measuring shorter than average. We were told it would be nothing of concern and not to worry as this fits our physical characteristics (my husband and I are noticeably short). Although she tried to reassure us everything was probably fine, there was something about her facial expression that threw me off and just didn’t sit right, which made me consider things. My mind started to wander to the worst case scenarios possible. What if his other bones are shorter? What if he’s not growing properly? Did I eat enough? Did I eat the right things?! Oh god – what if its a developmental disorder? The thought of my baby any less than normal shook me and I needed my mind to be at ease. After much thought and consideration with my husband, we decided to take the doc’s offer on a follow up ultrasound, which probably the best decision we’ve ever made.
We saw a specialist the same week who confirmed our baby had a short femur, however there was nothing to be alarmed of. He was a quirky man with a funny sense of humor that I just met and for some reason I felt comfort and relief from him. But that was short lived. I had low amniotic fluid. At that time I was ordered by the Doc to go straight to the birthing unit for fetal monitoring until baby arrived. Although this was alarming, there was a calmness and a sense of true reassurance from him. I knew we had done the right thing by deciding to do a followup ultrasound. So off to the hospital we went!
I can see why my husband considers that moment “the beginning”. It was the beginning of when our lives really started to change.