January 20th, 2014 was arguably one of the scariest days of my life. It was the day of our genetic testing. It was the day we found out that you had a Septated Cystic Hygroma. A year later I can still remember every single detail of that day like it just happened.
We sat in a cold waiting room. There were a few other couples in the office. I remember a sad couple making an appointment at the front desk. I remember them saying how often they were there. Something was wrong. Your dad & I both watched them. I remember leaning over whispering "I hope that doesn't happen to use." I remember your dad saying "It won't." and grabbing my hand. It was comforting. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous. It was only a few weeks before this that I had a panic attack thinking something was wrong with you. I thought for sure after your dating ultrasound that something was wrong. I went into see my midwife and she assured me that you were growing well and I shouldn't worry based on the results of the ultrasound. It didn't stop me from worrying though.
I did a lot of research about this appointment. I Googled everything. I felt like I could give myself the ultrasound. I laid down waiting for the ultrasound tech. As nervous as I was I was so excited to see you. I was desperately hoping to find out if you were a boy or a girl. I had a feeling you were a girl but thought because I have that feeling that you would for sure be a boy. I didn't really care either way. I was just really excited to see you and just really wanted everything to be okay.
My stomach was in knots for most of the short ultrasound. I knew something was wrong. Our tech was as cold as our waiting room and barely talked at all. I watched the screen in front of me as she measured your parts. I knew what the normal NT measurements. I knew your measurements weren't within that normal range. She handed us two photos of you and walked out. She said she would be back after she talked to the doctor who would go over our results. She said nothing bad and nothing good. It was almost robotic. As soon as she walked out of the room I told your dad something was wrong. I told him I knew those measurements weren't normal. He said everything was going to be fine.
Your dad & I were moved to the doctors office. I was scared. My heart was pounding. My legs were shaking. Your dad could see how scared I was but was calm. He told me everything was going to be okay.
The Doctor explained what is done in the ultrasound. I already knew. He explained what the measurements were. He said anything below 95% was normal. I hoped he was going to say we were right under. I hoped that I was reading the ultrasound wrong. I wasn't. He said your measurements were above 95%. He said you had a Septated Cystic Hygroma. I knew what that was. I remember every single emotion and feeling. I felt heavy. There is this saying, "I feel like I have been hit by a ton of bricks." That saying perfectly describes it how I felt when the doctor told me the news. I couldn't move. I watched the him talk about you. I remember feeling like there was a train driving between us. I swear I could feel the wind blowing my hair. I swear I could hear the train cars going by. I wanted to jump in front of that train and wake up from this nightmare. It wasn't a dream. It was reality.
Your dad was sitting next to me. He held my hand as I cried. Your dad tired to keep it together but he cried too. The doctor said you had a 40% chance you would be born alive. We found out later that it was a 10% chance that you would be born alive...and healthy. We did more testing but the results of those tests wouldn't be ready for a few weeks.
Kellan I loved you so much. It was so scary. I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want to say goodbye to you before we got the actually meet. I didn't want you to die. I cried every day. I dreamed of holding you. I dreamed dressing you in this cream long sleeve onesie that says "Picture Perfect" on it. I bought it shortly after I found out I was pregnant with you. I laid it out on my dresser. I never put it away. I couldn't now. I cried when I saw it but could cry harder thinking about it going away. Every day I would listen with my Doppler for your heartbeat. Everyday I found it. You really wanted me to know you were very much alive in there.
We had to wait 17 days for the results of the blood test. Those results were 99.9% accurate for several different chromosomal defects. In hindsight 17 days isn't very long. However living those 17 days felt like 17 lifetimes. During that wait I felt you move for the very first time. I thought for sure I was losing my mind. I was sitting on the couch, in the spot we spend a lot of time snuggling, and I felt a little flutter. Then a few seconds later I felt it again. I cried but I think you just really wanted me to know that you were alive.
During that time I contacted a few different friends to let them know of your diagnosis. These friends all had different religious backgrounds. It's not a secret that I don't believe in God, however in case I am wrong and there is a God, I wanted to make sure that you had all your bases covered. I had friends praying for you. Sending positive vibes into the world. Anything and everything to give you an edge.
Other than a few people, we chose to keep this news to ourselves. I didn't know how to explain to people what you had. I didn't know how to explain how I felt. I couldn't even decipher my feelings. I was overwhelmingly sad. Sad isn't even the right word. My world completely stopped while everyone's kept going. I was lost. I didn't know anyone who had ever went though this. I didn't have anyone who could relate. Thankfully your dad and Emily were there when I needed them, which was almost 24/7 during those 17 days.
On day 17 we were back in the same doctors office in the same ultrasound room where we found out this terrible news. Thankfully this time around our tech was much different. He was warm and kind. As I laid on down on the table I started to cry. I couldn't help but think about what could be wrong with you. I was scared to see what the ultrasound was going to show us. I swore I would know if something was wrong. I stared at the screen. I saw your sweet adorable face. I cried looking at it. I could see you had the same profile as your brother. I couldn't tell if anything was wrong. I watched the techs face thinking I could read his facial expressions as he started the first measurements, but I couldn't.
Then he said it. The Septated Cystic Hygroma had resolved. Believe it or not I started to cry more. After every measurement he would tell us more good news. You had 2 feet, 10 toes, two hands with 10 fingers, your bones measured the right length and you had the most adorable nasal bone that I had ever seen.
Then, he said "It's a boy." I looked at your dad. He was beaming. It was incredible.
We still had to wait for the blood test results which would be ready later that day. It was shortly after 4pm when I got the call. I saw the number pop up on my phone. My heart was racing and I instantly had tears running down my face. I was so scared. I answered the phone and I could tell within seconds that the news was good. Everything came back with the best news possible and it was confirmed that you were a boy.
While we wouldn't be able to rule out everything until you were born, I felt really good with our results and I had to take comfort that you would be okay.
You have now been earthbound for 6 months and 5 days and I can confidently say you are 100% perfect. You survived. You were in that 10% of babies who kick Septated Cystic Hygroma's butt!
Here you are in your onesie. The onesie I dreamed of you wearing. The one I held in my hands while I cried thinking you would never be able to wear it.
Here you are sitting and smiling. Enjoying every moment of your crazy life.
One year ago I couldn't picture this day. I couldn't imagine it. It seemed so out of reach. I could barely see past the minute I was living then.
But here we are. You are healthy. You are happy. You weren't affected at all by the Septated Cystic Hygroma. I still cry when I think about this day last year. I still get emotional thinking we were so close to losing you. Science says your odds of being here with us and being healthy were small.
You have completely changed my world. You have made me a stronger person. You have taught me how to be a fighter. You are strong and you are a fighter. You complete our family.
I love you more than I could ever put into words.
Love,
Your mom
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