I called Dr. Olmstead Tuesday morning and expressed my frustration and hurt. She immediately offered another ultrasound, where she would sit with us, answer our questions and show us our baby girl again. Tuesday evening, as the night drew nearer, I couldn't feel any sleepiness coming on. I knew if I didn't ask for some sort of medical intervention, my body and brain would suffer through another sleepless night. The doctor on call prescribed an anti-anxiety medication and one hour after I picked it up, I was out like a light and slept a peaceful nine hours. God, how I needed it. Since Monday morning, by mind wouldn't stop reeling. I felt like I was at the butt-end of a bender. My mind and eyes were wide awake, but my body was to the point of absolute exhaustion. Wednesday morning came too soon, but I was ready to face what the day had in store for us. I was ready to go have my questions answered and see our beautiful baby one more time.
We arrived and walked into the ultrasound room. Neither of us could fight the tears anymore. We watched silently as the tech showed us the formation of Leila's face, and the lack of brain and skull. All of a sudden, it was so real. This was our baby, and she was not perfect, medically speaking. She was not whole. She would not live. All hope quickly disintegrated and we sobbed. The doctor came in to speak with us shortly after. She encouraged us to put lots of thought into when we would deliver. She gave us pros and cons of the options, but never offered an opinion. It's such a personal and difficult choice. One thing was for sure: this day made brought us so much closer of our little girl. We received the photos we didn't get on Monday. In one, Leila's hands are up in front of her face, just like a boxer. Just like her Daddy. Other photos perfectly depicted her face, her eyes, her feet, her hands. They are beautiful and I will cherish them forever, just as I will cherish each little kick I feel from now until the day she's given to the lord.