Pregnancy: Second Opinions Save Lives

Beautiful Nora Lee

I always thought I would have three children. My parents had three so growing up, it was just natural for me to think three was that magic number. Children tend to model behavior. My two year old called me a dumb ass the other day. (Note to self: must learn to keep quiet.)

When I received the news about a year ago that I was pregnant with my third at 42, I was ecstatic. It took awhile to happen, so I thought it was a lost cause. Getting those positive results was definitely surreal. And immediately I felt the morning sickness.

I was feeling it the same day when I went in for my first ob-gyn appointment. I didn’t know how many weeks I was, but I could guess. I thought it was a little over six. Because of my age, I was considered “at risk,” so I asked for an ultrasound. This was the same procedure I had followed two years prior with my second. So I wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Disbelief.

They couldn’t find a heartbeat. The technician searched and searched, and said it was not there. She told me I had lost the baby. Immediately I went into a fog. I still felt pregnant, but I had a miscarriage before. But that one was an obvious loss. Maybe it was just the high progesterone levels that made me feel this way? I’ve read a miscarriage can mimic signs of pregnancy. Blame it on the hormones, right?

The doctor didn’t come to look at my ultrasound, but was available the next day to perform the D&C. He said he’d “be honored.” True story. I saw so many people in that office that day—everyone from the technician and doctor to the midwife and scheduling nurse. Everyone had a story about miscarriage, as if it was as natural as breathing. Statistics show that one in four women actually experience a miscarriage, so in this profession, it must seem normal. As if a loss could ever feel normal.

Instinct.

Something inside me told me to wait through the weekend and have the procedure the following week. It was Thursday; we scheduled it for Tuesday. My coworker called to find out why I wasn’t coming into work that morning. She was pregnant at the time, too, and gave me the best piece of unsolicited advice I have possibly ever had. She said: “No you are not getting that procedure. Get a second opinion.” A second opinion? I never even thought about it. It took time to wrap my head around it. Who would I even call? I don’t know any other doctors. I’ve been with the same practice since I was 18.

I tried to put the procedure out of my mind. Over the weekend I did what all mothers do. I tended to the things that needed tending to and tried to forget the other things. There was laundry and food shopping, swimming lessons and my husband’s fantasy baseball draft. Clearly we were busy.

Feelings.

Through it all I still felt pregnant. Finally, I called my doctor's offices on Saturday to tell them I wanted another ultrasound. Here’s the thing… no one called me back that weekend. Not one. And when I told them I didn’t want to have the procedure, I was made to feel like I was crazy. “So, wait, you don’t want to come in Tuesday?” Didn’t I just say that, dumb ass?

Luck.

I am lucky. This has a happy ending. I found another doctor’s office to get a second opinion ultrasound. The entire office knew of the news I was anxiously waiting to hear—and were also on edge. And there it was…a beautiful, strong healthy heartbeat. Everyone in the office practically cried with me when they learned of the news. It was a powerful moment I will never forget.

My baby is four months now and, of course, I couldn’t imagine life without her. But my experience is something I could live without. It cast a shadow on my entire pregnancy. I didn’t actually become fully attached to my pregnancy until we went through the genetic testing process. At that ultrasound, all the technicians wanted to know why I couldn’t stop crying; I was petrified I would get bad news. When I saw the baby’s progress, had them identify the sex, and received her excellent results, I knew she was going to be okay. Someone higher was definitely looking out for us.  

Questions.

Why didn’t the doctor’s offices do due diligence and have a follow up procedure? Why did they want to do it the very next day? Naturally there were so many questions. When I called the offices to tell them about this heartbeat, the scheduling nurse said, “Oh my God.” More like, “Thank God.” It was miracle. Of course there were emails and talk of them implementing best practices, but I’ll never know if that actually happened. I left and went on to have a beautiful delivery with the other doctor.

For a long time I couldn’t talk about this. It was too emotional. It still is. But as my baby grows and my family marvels, I feel like it’s really important I do.

Powerful.

I challenge that one in four number. And here’s why. The ultrasound technician who gave me my wonderful news had some incredible news of her own. The very same thing happened to her. Someone performed her ultrasound and gave her negative results. Right before the procedure she decided to have another one. And, well, I bet you can guess the rest…

You can't

My beautiful daughter Michaela turned 14 this weekend. She's my oldest. She is a very strong-willed young woman. She makes up her own mind and sticks to it. She's completely unwaivering—it's amazing. It's the exact opposite of me. I tend to mull things over for some time. Ask my husband about the kitchen. It was torture for him. "Do you like this tile or this tile?" I must have taken him to the same granite slab yard five times before I made a decision. And I finally made it without him there—he simply wouldn't go anymore. After I made up my mind, it took a mere two weeks to be installed, exactly 7 months from the first time we started looking.

Me and Michaela (4 yrs old)
Brian Pounds Photography

Michaela, she would have chosen quickly, ordered the slab, and never thought twice about it. This is what I admire about her. She's strong. For the most part I think she was born this way, but I'd like to think I had a small hand in it. The one question I always asked her was: "What do you think?" I do believe this empowered her to remain steadfast in her decisions and help her with cognitive development. And, in true form, it always came back to bite me in the you-know-what. She is a very opinionated young woman.

Next year she'll be going to high school. Is it so wrong that I wanted her to attend my alma mater? At first, when I introduced the idea, she said no. "All girls? NO way. I don't even know anyone." So I encouraged her to visit. She agreed. Afterall, she said, it was a beautiful day and we should spend it going somewhere. It was a wonderful Open House. As the tour guide took us through each classroom, I noticed her interested was piqued. It surprised her. She left feeling open to the idea of attending. I had hope.

Quintessential Michaela
Robert Harrington Photography

Then she shadowed a student and said it was a great day. "OMG, Mom. They have the best lunch room, ever! There is real chicken in the kung pao. And there is real cheese on that pizza!" She went on and on about the lunch room. "How were the classes?" I asked. "Oh, I liked them."
Hmmm.
She took the test. It was hell getting all the information for the application process. I had to contact her existing teachers, her principal, and the school secretary. I felt like an idiot, but it needed to be done.
When she got accepted, she squealed. She jumped up and down and was so excited.
I thought—this is it! She is going!
I was wrong. She wanted to go where her friends are going. I couldn't blame her for that.
I didn't pressure her or even try and change her mind. I simply asked: Are you sure? She was.
She wants to have a fun four years filled with the friends she made since kindergarten. There is something to be said for that. I understood.

But I still felt sad. People told me I should force her into going. But, you can't force Michaela to do anything. I taught her to be her own person. And she is. I will always go back to something she said years back. My sister was joking, calling her own daughter "my baby," and Michaela quickly retorted:
"You can own a car, you can own a house, but you can't own people," she said.
 Wise words from a 4 year old.

Lydia-Grace

Ask Lydia her name and she'll tell you:
Lydia-Grace Pretty Face

Since I started staying home, Lydia has become my "best friend." Just when you think no one is listening because you've been talking to yourself for 10 whole minutes without realizing it, there's Lydia! She is great at repeating everything you say, validating every feeling.

Lydia is my two year old. My precocious, rambling, adorable two year old. She is the only speaking company I have until my teenager, Michaela, comes home from school. And believe me, now that I am home full time, I am in dire need of company.

There are times Lydia relishes her new role. "I hold chew (you)." "I love you, Mommy." "Mommy, I help you. Mommy, we love each other." "Mommy, your Nate Berkus is on!"
She is so sweet. She really tries to help. Like when I lost my phone, she found it. "Mommy, I got your phone! It's on my heine!" And when I couldn't find my keys, she picked them up and put them in the dishwasher. It's important for her to have things clean. And when she thought my hair needed sprucing up, she dipped her hands in the toilet and put them on my head. I found that out later.

But Lydia has a temper, too. She's likely to tell you how she feels, always ending with the word "ever."
"Mommy, not nice, EVER!" "Go away, EVER!" And there are times she really knows how to hit home, "No Nate Berkus, EVER!"

But mostly, she just wants her old friends at daycare—and asks for them incessantly.

Today we joined a new playgroup, but had to pass the old daycare on the way. "Look, Mommy! I see my friends today!" "We're making new friends today, Lydia." "Ok, I see my friends." "No, you'll see them tomorrow." "Today?" "No, tomorrow." "I want to see them today!" "Listen kid, Mommy couldn't afford today and tomorrow, so you're getting tomorrow!" "Ok." So the free moment I had, I called daycare to see if they could fit her in for the following day.
Lydia never gives up. I love that about her. And hopefully when she gets to be an obnoxious teenager, she won't give up on me either.