We got an amnio test done today. We were pretty excited this morning, re-packed our hospital bags just in case, and accidentally left about 40 minutes early because I was so antsy. On the way Lucas grabbed my hand and said, "Do you think this could be it?!"
I have tried to keep myself from getting to hopeful and excited about what day the baby is coming. Our plans ALWAYS get derailed. It seems I am always close enough to having a baby that I believe it's really happened for me, and then somehow it all comes crashing down.
But when he said that I let myself hope.
Our last test was a week ago and little boy tested at a 10 and needs a minimum of 50 in order to be delivered. However, there is a backup test they give when our score reaches anywhere from 31-49, and if that is positive then they can still deliver. They guess that babies get 2 points a day, and then with steroid shots we can expect another 10-20 points.
We had the shots, so I guessed that put us at 25ish, then with 8 days gone, thats another 16 or so, so we would be in the low 40's. That is pretty close to the 50 mark, and the backup test would have a really good chance of being positive. I let myself believe that today could be the day.
The amnio test went great, easy and painless, baby looked great, his heart and measurements are all perfect. We just needed the lung test to come back with high numbers. We were ready for our miracle.
Our doctor didn't want us to wait at all for the test so he ran the fluid to the lab himself right after doing the procedure, then ran back and said it would be a few hours before we had results but that he told them to rush the test and call him immediately with the results.
Lucas and I decided not to leave downtown Denver, in case the test was mature, then we would go right to the hospital and have a baby! We walked around a park downtown and held hands and were feeling really happy and content.
We decided, after watching the clock tick by slowly, to drive home (use some time) and if he calls us with the results and we have to rush to the hospital that is fine too, we would have to wait for an open OR anyway, so we would have time. It's only a 1/2 hour drive. So we started driving home. As I was calculating that it would be about 2 hours until the results were in, my phone rang.
I answered hopeful, but could tell immediately it was not good news by the tone of my Dr.'s voice.
The test came back at a 22. Even with steroid shots to help his lungs, and over a week, they only went up 12 points. TWELVE! How?!?!
I'm 37 weeks tomorrow, and they say that about 90 percent of babies have fully mature lungs by this point. But not ours, our baby needs more time, and for us, time is the scariest thing.
So I held the phone to my ear and listened as the doctor explained our options (not many). Tears fell down my face and I cried silently as I listened to him apologize. I felt as though somewhere something I couldn't see was beating me up. Beating up my spirit. Externally I am fine, but it's like my spirit is completely shattered. Something had to be trying to ruin me.
I whispered to Lucas that news as we went, and he got quite upset. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel and said, "What are they waiting for?! Does he have to die too?!" Then his face got so sad and crushed me even more. He calmed down, got comfortable feeling disappointed, and grabbed my hand. I got off the phone and cried, we sat in silence most the way home.
We know that we dont want to make our baby come into the world too early when every day makes a difference, (though not much in his case). We dont want to take him out because of fear when he could really use the time to get stronger lungs.
But, we hate that people were ignoring the fact that we lost two babies before when EVERYTHING looked perfect. A bunch of dumb rules made by a group of doctors that keep our doctors from being able to decide that this case was different and lungs might be trumped by history. Hands were tied everywhere we look, and our baby is stuck inside.
I keep wishing for signs of labor, wishing for something to be just a little off so they can find a reason to deliver him. But he's perfect, just like his sister and brother.
We came home and I bawled my eyes out because we know what this means.
It is out of our hands. We just need to wait on baby's lungs. At this rate, he will be 40 weeks before his lungs reach 50, but doctors can deliver him no matter what at 39 weeks. So we have 16 days to go back to fear and waiting.
I'm just sad. I'm sad that baby is struggling for whatever reason to have his lungs develop. I'm sad that having two children die with no known reason isn't enough for them to justify trying to save this baby early. I'm sad that we keep packing our bags and driving off to FINALLY have our baby in our arms, just to drive home with tears on our cheeks and an empty car seat buckled in the back.
Sixteen days feels like an eternity. Especially since today marks the point in this pregnancy when we lost Molly when I was pregnant with her.
Life is hard.