On June 29, 2020, I had my 21-week ultrasound to determine our baby’s gender. My husband and I were planning a gender reveal on July 4th in our backyard, with close friends and family. The plan was to keep the gender a mystery and have it revealed along with everyone else. Our big reveal was going to involve buying baseballs that exploded either pink or blue powder when struck with a bat. Since our backyard was big enough to accommodate a small group of people and a baseball game, it seemed like a great way to reveal the gender together with our loved ones. My husband and I were practicing our swing the week prior, to make sure we wouldn’t miss the ball. I had it all planned.
My appointment day arrived. I remember breathing heavily behind my covid mask in the waiting room, while patiently anticipating the doctor to call my name. A few moments later, they finally call me in.
‘Yes. Finally!’ I thought.
As I lay down on their bed, they asked me to lift my shirt, warning me the gel would be cold. The technician looked over the ultrasound, verifying the baby’s overall health, and all I could imagine was what gender they were going to reveal to me. The night before the ultrasound, I had a dream I was holding a baby boy in my arms. Since then, I was convinced I was having a boy even though I secretly wanted it to be a girl. Ultimately, I knew I’d be happy as long as the baby was healthy.
“Once you see the gender, please don’t tell me right away. Write it on this paper.”
I instructed the technician while handing her my folded paper.
“Sure.” The technician replied.
After a few minutes pass, the technician informs me she can’t find the baby’s gender and explains she will get the doctor for help. ‘She must be new’, I thought. I waited on the bed as the technician stepped out of the room, hoping the doctor would be able to see the gender, otherwise I knew I’d have to reschedule the reveal party.
Soon after, I learned this might have been the least of my worries. As the doctor walked in introducing himself, he immediately began to verify the ultrasound, adding more cold gel and running the ultrasound mechanism up and down my stomach.
“You have very low amniotic fluid, which is why we can’t see the gender”, the doctor explains.
Disappointment suddenly overcame me.
“I also can’t see the development of the kidneys” he continued.
In an instant, my heart completely sank. I didn’t quite understand what that meant, but I had a feeling it wasn’t good. Several questions came running through my mind;
“What does this mean for my baby? Will there be some kind of intervention to fix this
issue? What do I do now?”
They couldn’t give me any direct answers. I began to panic as the doctor looked over at me with concern and advised me to go to the hospital as soon as possible. I quickly left the clinic, texting my husband through my teary eyes. I had never imagined this day turning out the way it did.
I got into my car, and before taking off to the hospital, I sat there for a moment to absorb the news. I can’t completely trust my memory on how I got passed the rest of that day, but I do remember sitting in the clinic parking lot, closing my eyes, and willing all of it to be a nightmare.
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