September 12, 2014
Today is the day we go to my regular OB to check on baby Luke and see what's going on with this whole lack of fluid thing. My appointment is for 9:40 that morning and my mom is going with me. Justin had a busy day ahead of him at work, so he didn't come along this time because we were sure everything would be fine.
The nurse calls us back for the ultrasound. I lay down and she applies that freezing cold, blue gel across my belly and begins. She's quiet. She does confirm that yes, the fluid around the baby is low. Really low.
"Let me go get Dr. Mellilo and let him take a look." Not a good sign I thought to myself.
The doctor comes in, takes ahold of the doppler and is squinting at the screen. I can tell by the look on his face and his lack of conversation that something is wrong. He lets out a long, slow breath.
"It looks like there is virtually no fluid at all."
"Is that bad?! What does that mean?!"
"Well, it could mean several things. What I think I'm seeing is, is a problem with his kidneys. Kidneys produce urine, and that urine from the baby is what makes up the fluid around him."
"Can that be fixed?"
"I'm not sure yet. I'm going to have you to go Riverside Hospital and see the high risk doctor over there. If it is what I think it is (lack of kidneys), it's not good Katie."
I loose it. So does my mom. This can't be happening. We've waited for 5 years for this child. God wouldn't take him from us. Right?
We get an appointment made for a few hours later. We go outside and sit at the very same table we sat at when Megan and Aric found out about Blake's condition (spina bifida). It was dejavu. Weren't we JUST doing this? Sitting here crying our eyes out, calling everyone we knew to start praying? I called Justin at work and told him he needed to come ASAP; that there was something really wrong. Mom called my dad and told him, and he rushed over as well. We called my sisters and my in-laws, and everyone started making their way to Riverside Hospital.
Finally, it was time to go see the high risk doctor. We fill out paper work and sit and wait for our turn. In the waiting room is my parents, my in-laws, my sister-in-law Callie, my sisters Megan and Beth, our pastor and his wife, and my dear friend Paige. We all sit in a circle and pastor Lee prays. We beg God for everything to be ok with Luke. We were confident it would be ok.
They call my name. Justin and I go back.
The nurse, Carol, begins the ultrasound. We can see our little guy on the screen. He had hiccups. She's pointing out that the brain, heart, spine all look perfect. I'm patiently waiting for her to say, "Oh, ok there are those kidneys!" She doesn't ever say that. She can't find them.
"He's still so small, it's just hard to say. I don't see them though. Or a bladder."
After several more screen shots and various views of his tiny body, she ends the scan. She tells me she's going to go get Doctor Fox to come in and take a look. A few minutes later, he walks in. He looks closely at what pictures she took of Luke and turns the machine off. He then says...
"Let's go into my office and talk."
Oh God, no. We know what this means. This isn't good. Justin breaks down. I hug him and say...
"We don't know for sure yet! We don't know for sure yet!" Tears streaming down my face.
We walk out of that room and make our way, with our parents, to his office. I suddenly can't catch my breath.
"I can't breathe...I can't breathe!" It felt like the oxygen had been sucked right out of me. I was so scared.
We walk into his office, sit down, and he begins to explain what was wrong with our precious boy.
"Your baby, from what I can see, does not have kidneys or a bladder. Because of this, and because kidneys make urine, he is unable to produce the fluid that should be around him. Because there is no fluid, his lungs are unable to develop. Amniotic fluid is what allows the lungs to develop. Unfortunately, your baby would not be able to survive once he is born."
I had never experienced pain in all my life, like what I was feeling at that moment. Justin wept. I wept. Our parents wept. The doctor went on in more detail what exactly was wrong and how there was nothing that could be done. He was very gracious and kind even though he was delivering such heartbreaking news. Our baby boy would not survive. How could this be happening?
The thoughts that ran through my mind as I sat there was: I can't do this. I can't survive this. I'm not strong enough to do this. I can't imagine delivering my son for him to live but mere moments. How am I going to get through these next 5 months knowing he's not going to live, and have to deliver my child and hand him over to be put in the morgue? God, hold me up, I'm going to collapse. God, please be near.
We left the doctors office and joined my sisters, Paige, and Callie in a separate waiting room they were in. We all just wept together. Wept for our little boy. My Dad prayed. Now what? Where do we go from here? We decided to go back to my parents house and be together there.
On our way home, we stopped by Worthington Christian (where Justin works) to let his boss Kevin know our news. We told him and he stopped and prayed with us and told us how sorry he was. We are beyond thankful for Justin's boss and all of those around him there. A true blessing from the Lord.
We got to my parents house, and Lee and Whitney came to be with us (our pastor and his wife). We shared more details about what Dr. Fox told us, and they cried with us. I asked Lee if he'd be willing to officiate my son's memorial service. Did I just ask that? Is this truly real life? He said of course he would.
As Justin and I went home that night, we were still in shock I think. Numb. We walked in our front door and immediately see reminders of our little boy. An empty guest room, ultrasound pictures on the fridge, pregnancy journals, the clothes we bough just a few days before, a sign in our closet I made for Justin that said "You're going to be a daddy!" We broke down. What do we do with all this stuff? Throw it away? Store it? We left it alone. We didn't want to "put away" our boy.
We finally made our way to bed, after a long emotionally draining day. My eyes were swollen from all the tears that day held. Before we laid our heads down, Justin prayed. He prayed for Luke, for a miracle. He prayed for our hearts, that we would make it through this. He prayed for sleep, that we would find sleep that night. I slept for a little while. I awoke around 2am, and sat on the edge of my bed and just sobbed. I cried out to the Lord. I expressed my anger, my hurt.
"Father God, not my little boy. Please not my little boy. I want him here with me. I want him."
Justin woke with me and we sat on the edge of our bed, and cried. We cried for a good 90 minutes together and held each other. I needed Justin now more than I ever had in our 6 1/2 years of marriage. I needed my Savior now more than I ever have in my life.
We made it through that first day. How would we survive the next? We promised each other that we'd take one day at a time. That's all we could do. When that seemed too hard to face, we started saying to each other "moment by moment." When one day seemed too hard to face, we told ourselves we'd face things one moment at a time. Literally. Maybe that's a tattoo waiting to happen? Moment by Moment. Shhh, don't tell my dad that.
Friday, September 12, 2014. The hardest day of our lives. The saddest. Yet, the one that will forever mark our lives as the day that brought us closer than ever to Jesus. To each other. The day that precious Lucas Kent changed our lives. We love you, sweet boy.
