Rip Current

Cinco de Mayo has always held a special place in my heart - but probably not for any of the usual reasons people love the holiday. I played my last game of varsity soccer on May 5, 2010, and I was baptized (again) on May 5, 2013. Special things in my life had just kind of happened to fall on that day!

So when May 5, 2021 rolled around, and I was scheduled for my 24-week prenatal appointment, I was pumped. I woke up, thought about (and posted about) my second baptism and how thankful I was for Jesus' salvation & His hand in my life, then got ready to go and left. (Side note: I did take care of my toddler, Alora; she loves my appointment days because that means she gets to go to her grandparents' house.)

This was going to be an awesome day. I had to take my glucose test (they take a bad rap, but these tests are not terrible, btw) and then I would get to see my little girl, Ruth, on some scans. Normally, my doctor's office does not do imaging after the 20-week anatomy scan, but Ruth was so active at that appointment that my sonographer was unable to get all of her necessary measurements! I was fine with it, and thankful for it, because now that meant I did not have to shell out more money at a private ultrasound business later on.

As I'm laying on the table, getting scanned, I got to see Ruth's lips and her little nose and was so pleased with how well she was behaving. The sonographer said, "This is great - no sign of a cleft palate!" And I thought to myself, "Oh yeah, they actually look for stuff. I thought this was just for me to see her face." My sweet sonographer then moved on to measure Ruth's legs, arms, and belly; to be completely honest, I stopped paying much attention here.

That is, until the sonographer looked at me out of the corner of her eye and asked, "Did you have any problems with your last pregnancy?"

"No?" I half-replied and half-asked, confident that nothing complicated my pregnancy with Alora, but very curious as to why she would ask me that question now.

At this point, it's safe to say that really loud circus music started playing in my head, so I am not exactly sure what came out of her mouth next. However, I do remember her explaining to me that Ruth has a 2-vessel cord, also known as a single umbilical artery.

Okay...but what does that mean?? Most babies have a 3-vessel cord, but Ruth has two. This can impact the way that she receives nutrients and blood flow through the umbilical cord. If this was an isolated incident, it would just mean that I needed extra imaging to ensure Ruth kept growing at a normal rate. Straight up, I did not even know this was a possibility. Apparently, it happens in about 1% of all pregnancies.

I asked her, "Okay then, do you see anything else???"

"Well..." I could feel my heartbeat in my ears as I saw the focus of the sonographer's screen move to Ruth's chest. "This is her heart," she said, "and normally at 20 weeks, but especially by 24 weeks, we should be able to see a line here that divides the two sides of her heart. I am not seeing one."

Okay...but what does that mean?! I can see her heart beating fine, and she moves all the time, so really, what does that mean? The sonographer left me to clean myself up while she went to go get my PA so that we could talk about next steps. I sat up on the table and began to pray.

"Jesus, You are good, You are holy, and You are kind. This news did not take You by surprise. I am confused and unsure right now, but You knew this was coming. You are Truth and I will hold on to what Your Word says." Then God called to mind a song by Hillsong United (another side note: I am not aligning myself with this church's theology or doctrine, but these next lyrics are truth) called Another in the Fire:

There'll be another in the fire

Standing next to me

There'll be another in the waters

Holding back the seas

And should I ever need reminding

How good You've been to me

I'll count the joy come every battle

'Cause I know that's where You'll be

My PA came in and was so kind and calm and reassuring. She went over the scans with me again and what they meant, and I asked again, "Is this indicative of something genetic or chromosomal?" She responded that she had actually just revisited my chart again to make sure nothing had come up. According to my tetra labs (blood tests) done at 16 weeks, I showed very low/no signs for the big syndromes that can impact heart function.

I was thankful for that, but scared to death by what she said next: "BUT we're going to refer you to Memorial Health Hospital in Savannah for their High Risk OB office and have them get some better scans. It could be that our machines here just are not good enough to pick up what we should be seeing. It could be that Ruth is just positioned in a difficult place! We will get to the bottom of this and it will be okay."

I left my normal OB office that day feeling very confused. Confused about what was happening, confused about how I felt about it, confused about how to approach the situation, confused about how to tell my husband - who was not with me - everything that was just dumped on me, and confused by all of the medical jargon thrown around (believe me, I was pulling out every last shred of A.P. Biology that I could remember). I was mostly confused by how Ruth could look so perfect, like in the cover photo for this post, but have the need for a high risk doctor. I was just confused. I communicate better through metaphors, so here's one for you: I felt like I was caught in a rip current. You can't fight a rip current; you just have to lay flat, float, and let it carry you. No matter how scared I was, I could not fight or flee from this situation that felt pretty heavy. My first appointment in Savannah would be Monday, May 10, and I just had to keep floating until then.

In all those emotions, I could trust that I believed in the God who was in the fire with me, holding back the seas, and would go before me in this battle.