Fetal Echo

Sweeeeeeeeeet relief! I was calm on the way down. I was calm when the tech was doing her thing. But then she stepped out to chat with the Dr. and I panicked. For like five minutes and then Dr. Puchalski came in, shook my hand and said, "Congratulations!" We tried to have Dr. Pinto today, but we like Dr. Puchalski a lot too. In fact, I'm a little in love with the man right now. Telling someone that your child's heart is perfect has that affect I guess.
So, for those who don't like reading my journaling section, now is the time to start reading. I want to remember every detail of today! EVERY. DETAIL.
Like I said, I wasn't that nervous today. With a four chamber picture from the ultrasound I was feeling good. Sure, I was nervous that there could still be something more minor, but I figured nothing could be as bad as what we'd been through already. I should mention, Andrew didn't come with. He doesn't handle the stress well so I made him go make some money for me to spend ;) Anyway, I went and was fine. We got one of our favorite techs which was nice. A little comfort blanket for me I guess. We got started and that lovely four chamber heart appeared on screen. It was beautiful. Of course, I'm no pro so about all I could tell was that there were four chambers. What they were looking for was other issues. And of course, Abby didn't make it easy. Abby doesn't like to be poked so she kept moving away from the wand and the tech would laugh a little. Then Abby would kick the wand, and the tech would laugh. So after about 30-45 minutes the laughs turned into sighs because Abby was such a stinker. But, they got about a million pictures and then a doc (in training I guess) starting taking some more while the tech went to chat with the doc. And as above, he walked in and said "Congrats!" He then patted my knee and mentioned that he was going to put down on Abby's record that her heart was perfect. Because he's a dr. he did have to tell me some realities which are that an echo can't catch small holes or that sometimes the PDA doesn't close after birth. This would be obvious by a murmur and we'd need to have another echo. But, if that's the case, we just have to wait til after birth. And I'm not worried. Dr. Puchalski then told me I could relax now and I intend to do just that. If anyone wants to know what to get me for my birthday, I would LOVE a prenatal massage. So, I never saw the bad news room and got to go straight out. And of course, I needed food so I hopped on over to the hospital cafeteria. On the way in I bumped into Dr. Eckhauser, Livie's surgeon. He said hi and then "What are you doing here?" Because that's what any hospital staff say when they see you and they hope you're not a patient. I was happy to tell him why we were there and that he wouldn't need to do anything on this little girl's heart. And he was relieved to hear it. So then I ate and went home and have been in heaven ever since.
I have to say, for the umpteenth time, how much I love the hospital staff. The tech, Dr. Puchalski, and Dr. Eckhauser were all so sweet with their dealings with me. Whether it was talking to me during the echo, giving me the good results, or congratulating me on them, they made sure I knew they cared, they were happy for us, and thrilled for them that they would only have to see this Abby girl in the yearly Christmas card and Livie's appointments. Words cannot express how grateful I am. I really did start panicking towards the end of the echo, but it's ok. It's all ok. I can start to dream about sitting in that hospital bed holding my baby while her big sisters come to meet her for the first time. I can start to dream about our perfect Christmas this year, hunkered down, just the five of us, getting to know each other and how our new dynamics are gunna be. This Christmas I will be bawling like a baby out of gratitude instead of fear and anxiety. Abby is our rainbow baby and our baby who came after our heart baby. She will be our Christmas miracle. So, bring on the tinsel and stockings because I can't wait for Christmas this year.