Sloppy Accounting

Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. Ephesians 5:11

From here, until Eadie is born, it's pretty hazy for me.  But, I'd still like to try to piece the events together, so here goes...


We ended up getting our appointment moved up simply because we begged them, 8 weeks was just way too long to not know how Eadie was developing, I think we maybe waited 6?  Our appointment was scheduled at the University of Washington hospital this time so we were close to the MRI machine.  I had had an MRI while pregnant with Josie. It's such a strange thing for your child to have an MRI while still in your body.  It boggled my mind.


As scheduled, we had an ultrasound first, but I don't remember it at all.  I assume the scan showed that the "cyst" had grown, although at that moment, I didn't look at it.  I just remember somehow heading downstairs to change for the MRI. 


At the U, the MRI machine is in an old ambulance bay in the back of the building.  You practically walk out to the street to get to it.  As you walk through the doors of the main building you're instantly slapped with the sound of traffic and a swirl of gritty, dirty, hot air from the generator.  So weird.  It's like the walk to prison or something.  Again, I don't remember the MRI, I only remember the desperate feeling of wanting to grab the technician though the glass, by the collar, and demand that he make a full brain appear.  Of course we didn't get a peep out of the technician and had to wait many days before the MRI was to be read.


To top off that long, excruciating day, an amniocentesis.  Our doctors seemed determine to get answers.  They never did.  Again, on paper, our daughter was completely healthy. 


After this appointment, there were many more to follow.  Medical frenzy is the best way to describe what goes on for the next few weeks.  The reading of the MRI sparked a huge "meetings of the minds" where preinatologitsts, neurosurgeons, and geneticists all met to discuss our case and what could possibly be done for this poor, poor family.  Ugh!  The biggest question was, is there really a cyst, or is the brain dissipating and the space left behind simply filling with fluid?  The thought was that if it was a cyst, they could go in, while she was still in utero, and drain it.  Surgery on a fetus.  Brilliant!  But, in the end, they all agreed, that for some reason, her brain was dissipating and there was nothing that could be done to stop it.


I remember talks about termination, which I think I verbally agreed to but ultimately could not do.  I understood the push for this, it wasn't just ME that this was going to affect and I hated having to put A and G through this again, the possible (probable) loss of another sister, but still, I couldn't do it.  I couldn't play God that way with her life.  She HAD to have some purpose or I'd not have conceived her in the first place.  At least, this is how I saw it, and still do today.


From here on out, you could tell there was a resignation in most everyone.  We mostly had meetings with Dr. death; a doctor who's name I cannot remember, but who we called Dr. death because that's all he talked about.  Great.  He actually was a really nice guy, but as you can imagine, we were not fans of his.   We had other appointments too, even another ultrasound that showed that the dissipation had slowed.  I cheered, full of hope, with my "sister" during that appointment.  Brett was "unable to make it" that day, who could blame him?  But, in the end, there just wasn't enough brain tissue to sustain life, and the tissue she did have was lissensapholic, or smooth, where it needed to be bumpy and full of grooves.  I felt trapped.  I felt panicked.  We were going to have to do this whole thing all over.