Meeting Johnny

December 7 marks the one year anniversary from the date that I count as the date we met Johnny. Last year, December 7, 2007, was our 20-week ultrasound. We arrived at the clinic in the morning. I think the appointment was around 10:00 am. It was a Friday. I remember being really excited. We were going to find out if our baby was a boy or a girl.

December 7 this year was on a Sunday. So on the previous Friday, I went down to the clinic where we had the ultrasound. I walked into the reception area and sat down, just taking it all in. The sights, the sounds….in many ways, nothing had changed. The woman at the reception area was the same. After the complications of Johnny’s pregnancy were known, we were at that clinic on a regular basis, sometimes twice a week, for almost the next 5 months. The “r” in the word “Perinatal” is still broken on the sign by the door that you walk into. There are comfortable reclining chairs in the waiting room with signs that indicate those chairs are reserved for pregnant women. Everything was the same. There were several pregnant women in the waiting area, most looking uncomfortable, some with partners, some alone. Nothing had changed.

I sat there and remembered the events of that day, one year ago. It was all coming back to me. We had never experienced anything like the shock we experienced that day of learning that there were complications with the development of our 20-week old baby. We wouldn’t learn about Johnny’s heart condition until weeks later. On December 7, in many ways, the prognosis was much worse and the question was if the baby would live or not.

I have another blog with a variety of subjects. It’s never been made public. I recorded some of the thoughts, hopes, and fears of Johnny’s pregnancy while we were walking that path. Some entries are full of exhilaration and hope. Others are heavy with doubt and fear. There is anger, there is joy. Here is an excerpt from what I wrote on December 7, 2007:

Sometimes you can just feel the difficulty creeping into your life. We went in for our 20 week ultrasound. As the technician viewed the first images of our unborn baby, the air in the room seemed to grow thick and the silence was more than just words unspoken. Our baby was not well. Other doctors arrived, discussion about what they were seeing. Then down the hall to a counsellor. More discussion based primarily on statistics. Suggestions for testing. Procedures. I was holding it together okay until I called my parents. I would then learn that one of the most difficult parts of this journey would be sharing the news with others, especially the ones you love.

In all the consultations, exams, discussions, and the waiting that day, we left there without knowing if our baby was a boy or a girl. That information just wasn’t that important at the time. The health of our baby was the only focus. A few days later we learned our baby was a boy.

As I sat there at the clinic, I overhead a couple sitting a few chairs away from me. They were talking in the hushed tones you use in a clinic waiting room, but it was quiet, and I was close to them, so I could hear a few words now and then. They had the excited voices of a couple expecting a new baby. At one point, she asked her husband or partner, “Do you have any secret hopes for a boy or a girl?” She didn’t look very pregnant. I guessed they were in for a 20-week ultrasound exam, and they were going to find out what they were having. He complained that they had been waiting a long time. She said she was hungry and got out a breakfast bar to eat. He told her to make sure she was drinking plenty of water. I sat there and listened to them. Lea and I were those two people a year ago.

The memories kept coming back. It was good to be there. At the clinic, nothing has changed. For us, everything has changed. We keep moving forward, talking, growing, grieving and healing....and remembering.