A Short Story Noah Inspired

This short story was sent to me by a member of our church after hearing our story of Noah.

"Several months ago at a meeting, you shared the story of your first born child. It is a tender story. Enclosed is a story that I wrote following that meeting. I enjoyed writing it. My hope is that it is as fun to read. Thanks for sharing your story and your lives at our church. We are blessed by your being with us."

The Story of Noah

(Sans the Ark and Many Animals)

By D. Prewitt 

It was the spring of life; a new marriage and their first child on the way - life in full bloom. Their friends too; young women sharing stories of the first kick and plans of showers.  Mothers with daughters recalling each step with a smile and the words, "When I was pregnant with you..."

They sat nervously in the doctor's office. The doctor had requested a special consultation. It was their third visit but things had been going well. The news came swiftly yet each word seemed to hang in the air. "Your baby has a condition that is incompatible with life." In that instant their hopes and dreams crashed without a sound. Joy was replaced with heartache. "Could it be happening to us?" they thought.

The next months passed by slowly. Follow up visits confirmed the first diagnosis. There was nothing to be done. It was inoperable. The nay Noah was born was a brutal confirmation of scientific accuracy. The little child lived, breathed and died in just a few moments. For the mother and father, love, sorrow and grief all within the rise and fall of his little breast.

Time passed. The young couple lived a full life. They had more children and grandchildren. Finally, when the woman called to her heavenly home, they had three great-grandchildren.

She was greeted in heaven by her parents and many friends and that preceded her. The Lord, Himself, was working through the crowd toward her when she heard a strange voice. She was certain that she had never heard it before but yet it seemed familiar. Even more peculiar, the voice belonged to a  man who looked a little like her father-in-law.

"Hello, mom. My name is Noah," he said. "I wasn't able to tell you this before but you were a terrific mother to me. You fed me and kept me warm. You protected me with your body. I could always hear you sing. I felt your pain when you knew I wouldn't be with you long. The safety of your womb was all I knew of life. I felt your love. Happy Mother's day, mom!"

About that time, the Lord embraced her. "Well done," he said. "We were especially proud of you and Noah. You had the special role of living the words of love to your generation. Come and enjoy peace in my presence."

"The king shall reply, "I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40 

Noah's Birthday: One Year Later

Last weekend marked one year since Noah was born. We didn't really know how to commemorate it - who does? We talked about several different things - planting trees, donating books or premie clothing, monetary donations - but when it comes down to it, we just wanted to be with people who had loved and supported us, walked with us, and made five trips to the airport in one day.

The week leading up to Noah's birthday was highly emotional for me. I am so glad, so blessed, that Dave was able to be home (not deployed) at this time.

We had dinner with Katie (Tom was stuck in AZ for the night), and fellow first-pregnancy-Trisomy 18 family, Kelly and Dan (who now have three lovely, healthy children). While there were many families who loved and supported us and Noah, if we were to have invited everyone, it would have been too many people and felt less personal. Katie made fresh peach pie - which many people who where here on Noah's birthday last year will remember as the best pie in the entire world. For real, that pie healed and comforted many wounds last summer. As such, Katie gave me a recipe card for "Noah's Famous Peach Pie."

All in all, it was a quiet day - a normal day - which is what we wanted this year.


I saw three individual signs of God's love for us on Noah's birthday.

1.  As I spent some time working in the yard, I noticed that my one surviving sunflower (of the 20+ I had originally planted) had finally bloomed. Additionally, I found a rogue sunflower seedling sprouting in the grass and repotted it.

2.  We received our first letter from our Compassion child. In April, Dave and I decided to sponsor a child through Compassion International. I chose Saju because his birthday was close to Noah's.

3.  God kept us busy with God. We spent the morning with our Pastor at a New Members class to become members of the church that's nurtured us these past hard years. I know that's not an "obvious" sign of God, but it kept us occupied, which is what I needed - not to dwell, but to be busy and with other God-loving christians.


"and whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me." -Matthew 18:5

Worth it.

Sometimes children say the darndest things. Sometimes children are so much wiser than their tender age.

I began working at a local elementary school about two months ago. I mainly interact with 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders. It's interesting to see what a seven-year old's world view is, what their concept of reality is. I have had many children ask: how old are you? are you married? do you have any kids?

The first two are easy. I don't mind sharing my age with seven and eight year olds - they have no concept of age and think 26 is old anyway. They are probably beginning to to place age and roles in boxes (ie -at 15 you are in high school, at 25 you are married with children). A good number of the children will respond, "My mom is 26,  and she has thee kids." Good for her, kiddo, go for her... That's usually how I respond, too, "Well, that's cool."

About two weeks ago I had this same conversation with a first grader. And for some reason I just decided to tell her. I was interested to see how a seven year old would process the information. Here is how our conversation went:

"Ms. Wiggly, do you have a husband?"
"Yep."
"Do you have any kids?"
"... Well, I had a baby, but he died."
"Why?" (Duh, should have seen that coming..)
"Well, because he's waiting for me in heaven now."
"How big of a baby was he?"
"Just a tiny baby."
"That happened to my brother. My older brother died when he was just a tiny baby. He's waiting for me in heaven, too."

Gosh, it just made my day - my week - for several reasons.

1) She didn't cry.

2) She processed it well.

3) Something like this had happened to her family.

4) Most importantly, something like this had happened in her family before she was born and her parents made a conscious decision to tell their later daughter about her big brother.

5) She called him "my big brother." I love that she referred to him as a member of her family.

It was so refreshing to have told a student. Not that she remembered ten minutes later, but still. I had shared with a student and it hadn't backfired. If you'll recall, I have had some issues sharing about Noah with the wrong people in the past. She had not only taken it well, but had a story to share with me. It made me feel a little bit more normal, and it gave me hope. A tragedy had happened to her family, and while I do not know the details, her family (probably) grieved, still grieves, and continued to believe in having a family.

Because when it comes down to it, it's worth it: the terror of losing another child is worth it for the gain of having a child. Children are worth it.

HTIP

Not a day goes by that I don't find a reason to cry. (Though I don't cry every day [anymore].) I just seem to be much more sensitive to just everything - nothing in particular - just everything. Every sermon at church just seems to hit home more so that it used to.

Of course there are things that am obviously more sensitive to: new borns, babies, pregnant women, the baby aisles and sections at stores. It still hurts. And while it still hurts, while I'm still irrevocably sad about losing Noah, I've arrived at the point where I can look at those baby onesies and say, "Some day that will be me picking out onesies."

Yes, we've arrived at the point where we are actively trying to have another baby. We were probably ready about two or three months ago to start trying, but I refused to get pregnant in December because I knew I wouldn't be able to handle our new baby having the same time line as Noah - the same week for the 12 week ultrasound, the 18 week tests, the 20 week sonogram. It would be too hard for me, and seemed unfair to Noah: That was his time.

But being ready to be pregnant is so hard when you're not actually pregnant. I know we are blessed - so blessed - because we know that we can conceive naturally, that my body can handle being pregnant and a natural birth. However, we wanted to have already had a baby by now (which we have, just not with the outcome we had expected) - we wanted to be working on child #2 (which we still are, again, just not how we had expected). We were ready eighteen months ago to parents (which we are, though not in the way we had hoped), and so each month that ticks by is like an eternity.

What complicates matters even further is the Navy. I remember telling friends in college who looked at me cross-eyed when I'd answer, I don't know where he's moving, "Being married to [or in a relationship with] someone in the military is like being in a relation ship with three people: You, Him, and The Military." We can't have the control over things that many civilians have. As a result, we have about five months of  "attempts" in the next year and a half.

Stressful.

The only thing to do is to take a deep breath and remember: His Timing is Perfect. HTIP.

Christmas cards...

At the beginning of this year, we thought Christmas 2009 was our "last" Christmas to do as we liked: Next Christmas would be so different, buying presents for a baby, getting up early, probably still sleep deprived. Last year, as I addressed and sent out cards, I knew it would be our last Christmas without a real child (not a dog or cat) on the front. 

So when it came time for Christmas cards this year, I was a) hurt and b) torn: I shouldn't include Noah on it, but how do I not? To not have included him would mean, to me, that we didn't value the time we had with him. Dave and I talked it over. We decided we would include him on the card. We would not send cards to anyone who didn't already 100% know. (I never made Noah's disorder public on Facebook.) 

So this card is what we came up with. I'm very happy with it. But also sad. Because I wanted to be buying "baby's first Christmas" ornaments and onesies. 

Lord willing, maybe next year.

The Balancing Act

Recently, I've learned the hard way about the love triangle that is Noah, my heart, and others.

You hear about that glow that prengant women get - I wonder what causes this perception of a glow, but I also think it's really sheer joy radiating out of a woman's face because she's accepted this unborn-child in to her life: She's committed and is so excited. It's joy.

It is only natural, I believe, to want to share this joy - hence all the mommy blogs, the internet forums, the literature, the (decaf)coffee talk sessions - all revolving around sharing this information.

And then women have the baby - and it's still all about sharing. To people without children, it seems weird and almost petty and often annoying. You share how much they pooped today, what time they woke up, how many times they fed; every intricate detail that (hopefully) people grow out of sharing.

But where do you fit in when you've lost your baby? When you can't share the first time he sat up, the first time he slept more than 6 hours, the first time he tried real carrots. I think there is a group of us that just lead double lives. You choose not to share about the baby at all - it probably is easier that way - to not talk about how you chose this name because then the person will ask how is the baby doing to which I will (never?) have a ready or good response.

I feel, however, that it isn't fair, though. My baby existed and impacted my life and others: I can only hope that I aspire to touch as many lives as Noah did has. I want to share - I want to tell everyone about him. But it hurts at the same time. Sometimes it hurts a lot. Sometimes it hurts a little.

So I shared recently. And it backfired. The conversation ended up becoming just downright hurtful, offensive, and inappropriate. Looking back now, I can see what went wrong: I shared with the wrong person. I shared with someone who would not understand the position I am in, the position I have been in, or the decision(s) I have made. I did not know this person well, that I had spent time with them.

And so I am at a crossroads: How do I know when it's okay to share? How do I know if it's a safe person to share with? Is it wrong to only want to share with people that will support me? And if I do that, isn't that just surrounding myself with "yes-men"?

And so I have recently discovered this will be a balancing act and I am learning on the fly every time. I will have to balance my overwhelming love for Noah and life with protecting myself and guarding my heart. Because everytime I share about Noah I am also opening myself up to be hurt: putting salt on a wound. In regards to my most recent failed sharing attempt - I will just have to hope and belive that God wanted me to share with that person for a reason - one that I will not know probably in this life time, but for a reason that will be revealed to me when I meet Noah again in Heaven.

And so there is this balancing act between sharing and guarding my heart.

Peedie

I'd heard on Thursday that Friday, October 15 would be Pregnancy and Infancy Loss Day... I was shopping for Christmas (yes, that's me planning ahead) presents for my nieces and came across a book by Olivier Dunrea's Peedie These are my all-time favorite books. I bought it for Noah, and when I came home and put his sticker in it, I just lost it. It's just hard. We're getting better, but it's still hard. 


Today is 3 months since his birthday. It seems like such a short time and yet like it was ages ago,  too.

Loss

The loss of Noah is just something I will live with.

Talking to Katie today, I told her I just want "to go back to being functional," to which she replied, "well what does that mean?" Well, it means that basically I want to go back to feeling how I felt before April 5, 2010, before my life became burdened with loss.

Well, that obviously can't happen. There will never be a day that goes by that I don't think about and love Noah; there will always be that hole in my heart where he is. My hope is that one day the hole won't hurt so badly. And maybe one day I won't be measuring time around December 24, April 5, July 16 and September 8.

I haven't used my blog as an outlet recently, I'm not sure why. Probably because I'm stupid and am trying to be strong. But, again, reality is that I cannot be strong all the time. And that being strong doesn't mean not crying and not hurting, which is what I want it to mean. As we quietly passed over Noah's due date and  the two month anniversary of his birth and loss, I guess I thought not thinking and talking about it would make it less painful. But that's not true either - the pain just gets damed up and delayed. Reality is that walking through any children's section will never be easy for me any more; seeing pregnant women will hurt; babies hurt; I'll never see handicapped, mentally delayed, or disabled persons again the same - because if he had lived, that would have been Noah. "Retarded" is not a funny or acceptable word - not when you've heard it used in the medical aspect do describe your baby. Flippant remarks about death, or killing someone, aren't so flippant, not when they have truth behind it.

Just to be clear- I'm not depressed. I'm just experiencing loss as anyone else would - which is comforting to me - that if you'd lost a husband, mother, or sibling, you'd be feeling this way too: small things trigger memories and become reminders. And remembering just hurts. Hurt doesn't mean we don't love; I think it means we do love: it hurts that we have lost someone we love no matter who that someone is. Even in high school, breaking up with a boyfriend meant tears, because it hurt to let go of that part of you. Losing Grandma hurt and I cried because her death meant I wouldn't get to see her at my high school or college graduation.

Hurting is just a normal part of life and a highly normal part of grief.
But it doesn't make the hurt any easier to bare.

Trisomy 18 Foundation

We've created a legacy page for Noah at the Trisomy 18 Foundation website. Visit Noah's Legacy Page.

Money for Trisomy 18

You've probably heard of the Pepsi Refresh campaign, donating $1.3 million to different causes. Where the money is donated is up to us: each cause must be voted in to the top ten.

I'm supporting a cause created by a mom in Kentucky whose child was diagnosed with Trisomy 13. As a result, they were unable to find a doctor willing to help them. This story hit close to home for me, not only because of the Trisomy 13 - which similar to Trisomy 18 and Trisomy 21 (Downs Syndrome) - but because we also had a difficult time finding a doctor that would not only support our decision to carry, but also support us in finding surgeons who would operate. We were told that no doctor would operate on Noah because of his Trisomy.

No parent should not have that option. With $50,000, this grant would create an online referral system that would help parents find supportive doctors. Well worth the 2 minutes it take to sign up and vote. You can vote up to three times each day.

Hurry, voting closes on August 31.

Learn more: $50K: Care for children with Trisomy 13 and 18

Vote: Using the widget on the Right, or through the link above.

Noah's name in the sand in Western Australia

Photos of Noah

Update from the grandmothers

On July 16, at about 3 am, Annie's water broke. Dave was on an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic Ocean, so Annie called her dear friend Katie. Within minutes, they were on their way to the Lemoore Naval Air Station hospital.  Upon her admission to the maternity ward,  Annie's very supportive doctor, Dr. Schipper, performed an ultrasound. At that time, both Annie and Dave (on the phone from the ship) learned that Noah's heart had stopped beating. With support from Katie, Amy, a great nursing staff, and her doctor, Annie labored until Noah's birth at 2:03 pm.

Noah weighed 2 lbs 13 oz. and was 13.5 inches long. He had auburn hair, like his dad, and blue eyes, like his mom.  Miraculously,  Dave arrived at the hospital late that night, and he and Annie were able to spend time together with Noah.

We grandmothers arrived in time to hold Noah, too.  A private memorial service is scheduled this week.

Annie will add to their story later, when she is ready.  They are grieving with hope.


Barbara and Jenny, aka Bobbie and Nonny

A Party for Noah

We've decided on what our equivalent of a Baby Shower will be. If you'd like to help in celebrating Noah, send me an email and I'll get you the information. There's no set date, necessarily, but there is an end-date, so the sooner you let me know the longer you'll have.

Today

Well, today just sucked.

We had a doctor's appointment in Fresno (Waiting Room Stories post). Our usual sonographer is on vacation this week - the first vacation anyone in the office can remember him taking. Our sonographer this time just didn't mesh with us and our situation. It's one thing to be professional, but now we know the difference between "professional," "professional with sympathy," "callous ass," and "doesn't know how to respond to our situation and has obviously never seen a Trisomy baby." John and Dr Morgan- our first sonographer and doctor at this new clinic - was professional - the one who was almost in tears by the time we left. Jeff and Dr Choa- our 'regular' sonographer is professional with sympathy - and because of that we feel 100% comfortable around him - he understand the situation we are in. Callous ass would be Dr. Wood's office, everyone. And then there's Mariella or whatever he name was today. She's the "doesn't know how to respond to Trisomy and obviously never seen it." She kept her distance and there was just something about it that told us she didn't know how to respond.

So we had some antenatal tests done - Dave and I don't understand, we thought we declined antenatal care, but then this might be standard? I'm not sure. There are three tests that Noah had to complete within the 30 minute time frame: 3 gross movements, fetal tone (heartbeat?), and breathing. I guess around now is when babies start practicing breathing on their own. Well, Noah didn't practice breathing. Usually, that would mean they'd send us to the hospital for 2 hour evaluation, or reschedule another ultrasound and try the test again in a few days. If he didn't pass the second round, they'd check me in. So fun times. Dr. Morgan had told us of a Trisomy 18 case he'd seen at the beginning of the year where they opted to continue evaluation in the hospital - she was there for two weeks - and then was able to check out. But it doesn't change the outcome - they still wouldn't delay delivery (before 32 weeks), or do anything more aggressive later. And the concept of me being in a hospital for an undetermined amount of time... in Fresno. Dealing with people like people in the Waiting Room. Away from Dave. For a situation that monitoring won't affect. Not worth it.

We also learned that as of 3 weeks ago, Noah was in the 5% for weight. 584g, 1.2lbs. They didn't do growth measurements this week so we don't know how that's changed, but that's never good. We expected him to be small, but it's still hard to hear it. Especially such a low percentile. Dave and I were talking on the way home - If you compared him to his like-peers - Male Trisomy 18 babies at 31 weeks - he probably measures right on, and is great compared to everyone else. Mainly because no one makes it this far to begin with. Also not a fun thought.

To top off the visit, we got no pictures. Ugh. So we're obviously only scheduling with Jeff from now on.

So we made it home, and Dave went into work, and then I promptly broke down. Sat balling with Slider for over an hour. Slider's got some great attributes but consolation isn't one of them. Just crying about everything. Nothing in particular. But everything at the same time.  Dave was able to come home from work a bit early and we canceled dinner plans and were able to just spend some time together, which i needed. (He's been flying/working nights the past two weeks in preparation for Carrier Quals out of Virginia next week.)

So that was a great afternoon only to be topped by this evening's news: Our travel insurance claim has been denied based on the fact that pregnancy is a preexisting condition. Well you just watch Dave and I fight this. It's total bullshit. We weren't canceling the trip because we realized I was pregnant. We canceled the trip because the DOCTOR(S) said I can't travel. So that's fucking awesome. I don't know who deserves to get $2k more than we do at this point. I'd go ahead and say we've earned it. So this will be fun. Not.

4th of July Weekend

Every year, I feel like the 4th of July sneaks up on me, and before I know it, I've got no plans. Poop. Probably as a result of this, Dave and I don't have any 4th traditions - unless you count rarely seeing fireworks. Last year we were in Perth, Australia, and Dave had a kangaroo steak for dinner and we saw a movie; the year before we were in Maryland at the Grebb's; I can't remember the years preceding those... So this weekend will at least be memorable.

On Saturday, we had a JO wine tour arranged in Paso Robles. For me, I wasn't thrilled about driving to Paso, spending 50$ for me to ride around in a limo (when i could be driving since I drove up there anyway) and then having to drive back. But it's never a dull moment with the single guys, that's for sure, and Dave found a way to pay for our trip.

Here we have Dave getting a Hanna Montana airbrush tattoo on his lower back. What we like to call a "Tramp Stamp."

When some of the single guys said "I'll pay you $100 to get a Hanna Montana tattoo" "Yeah I'll throw in another $50" Dave weighed the pluses and minuses and immediately said okay. So, there we paid for both our of limo tickets, all the wine we purchased, and then pocketed a bunch. Woot!

The day escalated quickly and was a lot of fun, save the last 45 minutes which were nothing but d-r-a-m-a. Aside from the drama, this was the first full-out day of neck pain, and I was poppin' Tylenol like they were Pezz...



On Sunday, the actual 4th of July, we had no plans. We used Dave's well earned money to go to Walmart-ugh-and buy two racks of ribs, which ended up being waaay to much and one sits calmly in our freezer. Dave and I realized we hadn't had ribs (homemade) since Summer 2008, when Mary and Kyle came to visit us in Virginia Beach. We decided to try two recipes out of the Webber Grill Book: one saucy, and one Memphis-style rub.

The Rub.

The Apple Mop Sauce.

Grilling, with some hickory chips, and sweet corn.

YUMMY. The rub was a bit peppery, the mop was awesome (it has shallots in it, and Dave said all he could taste were the onions, eeeeewwww. I, however, loved it.) the corn was amazing, the squash was bland.

before and after

Peach Cobbler with some local peaches. (I doubled the amount of crust.)

Slider, being Slider, and celebrating. 

After dinner, we went over to the Stephen's house for some fireworks. Local fireworks here are super lame. They are only on sale July 2-4. They cannot go more than 5ft off the ground. So we all sat on the curb to get a dog's-eye-view in an effort to make them more spectacular. 

Look! It's a picture of ME and DAVE!  And Noah. I look like a tent in this shot, but my dress is red-white-and-blue. Not the greatest picture, but it's at least a documentation that we were there together, all three of us :)

The little things

Last week's post was a downer, so I thought I'd write something more cheerful. Because the reality is, most of the time, Dave and I are ok. (I almost wrote "fine", but reality there is that we won't be that for a while.) Most days are not tearful, and while there may be a few moments that I think of Noah's fatality, I don't dwell on it usually. It would be impossible to function if I did.

A lot of times, Dave and I are happy with the normalcy of the pregnancy. We've never been pregnant before, so it's all new to us.

It simply is baffling that the human body can change so much physically. Let's face I went from being Annie to Whale-like-Annie and don't consider it a bad thing! When I go to the doctor's office, they weigh me every time. If I'd hit this weight a year ago, I'd be flipping out and exercising three times a day. But now, as a creep up to 150lbs, I'm not unhappy.

It's amazing to me that there is a little human body growing inside of me. I think that anyone who is skeptical about God has to become at least agnostic when they look at a pregnant woman: There is a HUMAN growing inside HER. Little toes and fingers. And a heart! So complex!

It's amazing experiencing Noah move. I've finally - finally - recognized the little movements in addition to his full-out change-of-position rotations.  They feel like bubbles. Once I was able to describe them to Dave as bubbles, he understood what to feel for and voila- he can feel Noah too! All those weeks I thought my intestinal track had shifted and that I was digesting food, nope, it's Noah. ((flutter flutter)) He say's "Hi!"

Most times I can look down at my tummy and play "On Which Side of Annie Is Noah?" and visibly tell the answer. I guess that's what people mean by carrying high or low - Noah hangs out most of the time upper right quadrant. Of course I don't know if it's his head or his rump.

And then there's the back pain. Not so much fun. After three months of sleeping on my sides, I only want to sleep on my back. Or my stomach. And guess what I can't do? Sleep on my back or stomach. The stomach for obvious reasons, but I can't sleep on my back because it compresses a main artery that sends blood to Noah. It's also sore from carrying extra weight at one point in my body. You try carrying an 11-15lbs bowling ball fastened to your stomach around for a while and see how long it takes you to develop back pains. Dr. Schipper said she would write me a prescription for "back massages from husband" if needed. I'm going to be trying prenatal yoga starting the week after next. (The studio is closed next Monday for 4th of July, blast.)

And then there's always the random cravings, random bouts of extreme tiredness, constipation, remembering to take the vitamins at give me constipation, remembering to eat fiberfull foods, peeing at least twice in the middle of the night, remembering to turn on the nightlight in the bathroom so I don't blind myself every night, and extra pillows everywhere.

So really, Noah's just a normal kid.

Father's Day

Disclaimer: Not Uplifting. 
Father's Day passed similarly as Mother's Day... though with less tears. I vetoed church because I didn't want to hear a sermon about how great and important dads are. It's not that I don't agree but rather that it is a constant reminder of what we will never have. Playing catch and teaching Noah how to ride a bike just aren't things we can think about without utter pain; instead, we'll be lucky if we get to hold him.

I have to remind us that we are perfect parents because we've given Noah the opportunity very few would grant him: The chance. The opportunity to make a difference in people's lives; to be treated like a normal baby instead of a fatal statistic; to be loved not despite all his difficulties but because of them. But still, we mourn for the loss of what we thought we'd have.

Noah's photoshoot

Full-body view of Noah, he looks like he's sucking his thumb, maybe. Omphalecele also apparent. (We learned how to spell it today.)

Noah's little legs/feet, crossed at the ankles. This is probably what's poking me every day...

Little fist! It's his hand, but his fingers are clenched so they're folded under.

Sucking on the umbilical cord...

Obviously he can't hear me tell him not to put that in his mouth....

Noah's boy parts! We had the tech, Jeff, show us because we found out he was a boy via amnio results. The big blob in the bottom left is his butt.  :)

We had an overall good visit with the doctor today. The Tech was disappointed when we had to schedule our next ultrasound while he is out of town. (Having to plan around Dave's schedule.) We had a minorly traumatic event as we witnessed a massive heart deceleration from 130s to mid 70s. So that was upsetting, but apparently not wholly abnormal. We spoke with Dr. Chao, who is our favorite, aside from Dr. Shipper. He has very good interpersonal skills. Dr. Chao arranged for a neonatologist from the hospital to stop by and meet with us. Dr Savid was helpful in discussing what options we have available - which aren't a lot, but we already knew that. We're planning on delivering at the Fresno hospital, where they'd provide some basic comfort care support. So overall, not a bad visit, but always emotionally draining. We're getting take out for dinner because a) we have no food and b) no energy to cook. 

Warning, the following includes judgmental comments. I'm just letting you know that I know they're judgmental. 

As always, we have many tales of the fall of the human race from sitting in the waiting room. Today's future-mom-of-notice was.... almost indescribable... Dave and I were unbelievably appalled. The office closes for lunch from 12-1pm. Having the appointments right after lunch are good because that hour gives the morning's rush time to even out, and you generally wait less. Well little-miss-Thang obviously didn't notice this, and continued to complain about the wait (they lock the doors until exactly 1pm). While we had to wait with her for 15 minutes, she drank a soda, pulled out some nothing-but-sugar-blue-and-pink candies, proceeded to announce to the other 10 of us waiting to get in that she was a gestational diabetic, but she didn't care since her due date is in 6weeks anyway. "I really shouldn't be eating all this sugar, but who cares." We also learned that this was her 7th child, (she's 31, I checked her birthday when I signed in.... come to think of it, she cut in front of me, but I don't care because I didn't want to have to deal with her); she has a baby girl, and a dead 12-week-old fetus in her that's causes extra fluid build up; she has the mentality of a 10 year old; she was wearing a tube top with a strapped bra. (Ok those last two aren't observations, they're judgements.)  I managed to avoid eye contact enough so that she didn't seek me out as a social companion in the waiting room (thank the Lord), but latched on to a 10year old boy who was there and talked about how many stitches and staples she'd had... There was also discussion of being in and out of jail, but I didn't hear the details, I don't think it was her that was in and out of jail, though, so that's.... good? 

Dave also thinks she's on welfare. Pure speculation, and judgement, but hey, if we can beat .007% odds and have a Trisomy 18 baby, it's almost a safe bet she's on welfare or unemployment. Or both.

When Dave and I over heard that she's had 7 kids, we just about lost it. How in the world can people like this get SEVEN kids and our FIRST has Trisomy 18? Why do bad things happen to good people, and why is stupidity continually recognized and rewarded in our society?!?!

Maternity Photos

Tada! While Diane was here - in the 45 minutes we had before we had to load everyone in the car to go to the airport - we did a mini-photo shoot of Noah and I. These are some of my favorites.

(Click on any of the photos to make them fullscreen large.)

The photo shoot wasn't hard until later - we were so busy getting everyone out the door, and then driving, and then driving again. But yesterday it was a little hard. I mean, I love the photos, but it's still difficult knowing that we won't have more photos of Noah. Regardless, the photos are a tribute to Diane's photography abilities - since the only light we used was the natural light from our bedroom window.