Faith Angel Tan was conceived July 2009, and is due 24 March 2010. Monthly scans at the gynae's office showed her to be happy, healthy and growing well. Gynae even commented once that she had long legs, like her brother. We were overjoyed to know our son was going to have a sibling soon.
At our 21 week detailed scan, we received very bad news. There was something very wrong with our daughter. I will never forget the sonographers' faces as they watched the scans (yes there were 2 of them). The first sonographer's questions and reactions set my alerts on high when she said she was concerned about something and needed her colleague to reconfirm it. The second sonographer said my doctor would speak to me, but she did say our daughter had a condition known as anencephaly (literally meaning "without brain"), and that it was critical. That was all she would tell us. I was quite frustrated with her then for not telling me more and keeping me in suspense, but now that I think back, it would have been unprofessional of her to say more, given she wasn't a doctor.
Our gynae spoke to us over the phone at the hospital, and said there was some problem with our daughter, and that he wanted to see us in his clinic first thing on Monday morning. That was all he said, and that was more than enough to make our weekend a living nightmare.
Although we didn't have any idea what anencephaly was, we were devastated to know there was something wrong with our baby. I wanted nothing more than to go home, and we did. On the way home, I cried for my daughter. My son and my husband were my only saving grace then, telling me not to over-worry myself.
Reaching home, we all took a nap, or at least I tried to. I got up and searched the internet for information on anencephaly, and I wished I never did that. The images of anen infants were very graphic, but in a way it slaked my thirst for information. I read that anen infants did not have any bone structure above their brow area (some slightly higher), and their forebrain was not developed. Some infants had totally no forebrain, and some had brain tissue sticking out from the top of their heads, uncovered by bone structure. The prognosis worldwide was not good. Majority of anen pregnancies were terminated midway (after diagnosis), the rest who were carried to full term were either stillborn (from not being able to cope with the pressure of going through the vaginal canal) or died a few hours after birth from infections. The occurence was 1 in a 1000 live births and the frequency was higher in girls.
Knowing more about my daughter's condition gave me some peace, and at the same time made me more upset. I kept asking myself, 1 in 1000 births, and it had to be my daughter. I sms-ed family and friends, asking for their prayers. We prayed for a miracle that by chance, the scanner at the hospital had been faulty, or there had been a misdiagnosis. We wanted our daughter. That night, after my son had slept, I felt so horrible feeling her kicking and somersaulting inside, knowing she would not live to see the world. I cried myself to sleep.
On Sunday, I avoided conversation with most people in church, fearing their questions and concerns would remind me of my pain once again. Whenever people asked to pray for me, I cried. It hurt very badly. In my mind, I only thought I'm going to lose my daughter to something I can't fight. We went home for some rest in the afternoon, and again, I found myself restless and unable to stop thinking about my baby. Sunday evening I had dinner with my parents and relatives. Talking about it did comfort me a little. I feared the moments where I was alone and my thoughts would again go to my baby. Sunday night again I cried myself to sleep, repeatedly reminding myself to be mentally prepared for the gynae visit in the morning.
Monday morning at the gynae's clinic, we were given the bad news. The machine was not faulty, and our daughter did have a critical birth defect. The doctor seemed genuinely upset and was unable to give us any more comfort other than "I'm sorry". I held back my tears. All the mental preparation I had done still was not sufficient to prepare me for my doctor's words. His instructions then were for us to terminate the pregnancy as soon as we could. The truth finally settled in me - I was going to lose my baby.
ET refused to accept the doctor's decision, and demanded a second opinion. We were given one and told to go to the hospital in the afternoon. The second hospital gave us no hope either. The only difference is this round, I saw my daughter's face. She looked just like her brother. My heart bled when I saw her face.
The sonographer and doctors gave us a very detailed explanation, showing us that our baby had no bone structure above her eye sockets, and that was critical to her survival outside the womb. Without which, she would not live longer than a few hours. Other than that defect, her other structures were well-formed, but they were not enough to prolong her life. Their suggestion was to terminate as well. We were given an appointment to meet with the doctor in charge of the procedure for Friday morning. Late afternoon at home, ET finally broke down and it was a sort of relief for me. I knew he had been holding everything in since first knowing about our daughter's condition. The remainder of the evening, we spent it with our son.
Faith at 15 weeks scan. She was seen clapping her hands here. Her position was not optimal for seeing her gender, spine and head here.
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