I Adore You

Abstract

I Adore You Angela Yvonne Dahm My son, Theodore, was conceived after attending a cousin's wedding in Madison, WI. That cousin now has her own sons, one of whom is named Theodore. I found out I was pregnant on the first day of September and felt overwhelming excitement and anxiety, all at once. Would this pregnancy end happily for us? Two years earlier, we had lost our second pregnancy at 12 weeks because the fetus was not growing properly. The pregnancy was not viable, however the hospital was prohibited from performing a D&C because a heartbeat was still present. As a result, I remained hopelessly pregnant for three more long weeks waiting for that heartbeat to stop. Those three weeks were excruciating and traumatic. I grieved this loss deeply. Pregnant again, I cautiously took it one appointment at a time. Each whoosh whoosh whoosh of the heart doppler offered new hope and excitement that our baby was going to come to us. First trimester, then second trimester, then third trimester, but in the end a live birth would not be ours. The 27-week appointment went off without a hitch; a strong heartbeat, lots of baby kicks, round ligament pain, and complaints of swelling. I was anxious about traveling on an airplane for our upcoming babymoon1, so my doctor had me return in three weeks so we could check on baby boy before we flew to Dallas, TX. Three weeks later, a couple of days before my scheduled appointment, I noticed decreased fetal [End Page 199] movement and called my doctor's office. While initially telling me I might need to go to the hospital for fetal monitoring, the office called back to let me know that I was to count kick cycles that evening and come in first thing the next day. I had an anterior placenta with this pregnancy, which meant that the kicks were softer, as there was an entire placenta to send the kick movement through before it reached my belly button. I counted some kick cycles and fell asleep. Little did I know the devastation, pain and loss I was about to encounter. The next morning, cell phone in one hand, milk and decaf coffee in the other, I happily plopped down in the office, ready to get cozy, send some emails and listen to my baby's heartbeat. As the nurse tried to hook me up to the fetal monitoring machine, she struggled to find a heartbeat. After several minutes, she left the room to get help from the nurse practitioner. "She doesn't know what she's doing," I thought to myself. When the nurse practitioner couldn't find the heartbeat either, she left the room to grab a different doppler machine. When that proved fruitless, I told her, "This is bizarre. Dr. M always gets it on the very first try." She told me that I would need to go to the hospital for an ultrasound to check on the baby. She left the room to schedule the appointment and returned to let me know that I had an appointment and needed to go straight there. I broke down in tears in the elevator when I called my husband Jonathan to let him know that they couldn't find the baby's heartbeat and asked him to meet me at the hospital for an ultrasound. While driving, I called my mother, who was aware that I was going to the doctor to be monitored. She wanted to come join me at the hospital and I declined. I texted a couple of friends to let them know what was going on. When I got to the fourth floor at the hospital, I checked in and the receptionist told me I would need someone to accompany me for the ultrasound. That really set me off. I told her my husband was on the way and she asked that he check in at the front desk when he arrived. Why did I need someone to go back with me? I called my dear friend, Hannah, and cried and cried while sitting in the waiting room. Jonathan arrived, checked in, and they escorted...