The moment that everything changed

When something tragic happens, there is always a defining moment. It can only last a second but has the ability to completely change the course our life is taking. It's a tangible point in time when things go from being okay to being unbearable. For us, this moment happened on November 17.

We had booked a few days off to head to Niagara-On-The-Lake for a bit of a 'babymoon'. On Tuesday of that week, we had our 20 week anatomy scan and the ultrasound tech had given us the gender of our baby wrapped up in a top secret package for us to open when were were away and could share the exciting news in a private and intimate setting. On Wednesday, I had an OB appointment which I expected to be fairly quick and routine. I had a busy day of important meetings and so did Caen, so I headed there alone, expecting to get weighed and have her listen for the heartbeat. I'd be in and out in less than an hour. As I waited in the lobby, I grew increasingly impatient. The doctor was taking forever and I was getting dangerously close to the meetings I had to take. I gave her 10 more minutes before I just bailed on the appointment all together. Sometimes I wish that I had left so that we could have gone on our trip in total ignorant bliss and at least get a few more days of being utterly clueless about what was going to hit us. 7 minutes into my arbitrary deadline, I got called into her office.

The appointment started like any other had but then she started looking through some paper work. 'Oh, we have your ultrasound results here.... I haven't looked at them yet'. As she started to read through the results, her face turned very serious and then she started muttering things like 'oh no'.... and 'I didn't expect this'. My panic level started rising but, I kept talking the hypochondriac in me off the ledge. I told myself it was nothing major - the baby was moving around like crazy and the ultrasound tech even said it was the best looking baby they had seen all day. The doctor then started fumbling through a diagnosis she was clearly not prepared to give. She told us that it appeared that the baby had a condition known as a Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia (CDH) and that this meant that the diaphragm hadn't formed properly and that many of the baby's organs were likely up in the cavity, crushing the baby's lungs. She ended her sloppy speech with 'you're being referred to London because I'm not experienced to help you with this' and then 'I'm sorry to tell you but you're classified as an extremely high-risk pregnancy'. It still hadn't really sunk in. I sat there stunned and it wasn't until another staff member came in holding a box of kleenex and asking if there was someone they should call to pick me up that I realized that was my cue to have a complete emotional breakdown.

That evening was the worst night of our lives at that point in time. We spent hours crying, researching and trying to understand what had just happened to us. We knew that if our baby survived, he/she would have to battle through surgeries just days after birth and would likely spend many days in the hospital. While we were devastated by the idea of all of this, we still were able to find some comfort in knowing that many babies with CDH do go on to have normal, healthy lives. We decided the best thing we could do was to give our baby an identify, find out the gender and focus all our energy on visualizing him/her being a strong fighter.

We opened the envelope together and found out we were having a girl. Something we had both wanted so badly and yet it felt like it could already be taken from us. Never had I experienced something so bitter-sweet.