On June 18th, I was in bad shape. I had been so sick with a virus I no doubt caught in Mexico. I still didn’t have my lab results back saying what was wrong with me. Melinda came over. She sat with me while I cried (literally into a beach towel - it was what you might call a low moment).
Melinda gave me something called the miraculous medal, something from a Catholic church in France where Mary appeared. Less than 10 minutes later, my nurse called and said they wanted to work me in today. Melinda was in the background saying, I TOLD YOU! It was awesome.
I called Kirk and said please come home immediately. He cancelled his appointments before realizing he’d taken the shuttle and didn’t have a car. His boss Kim drove him all the way to Austin so he could make the appointment. I called mom and asked her to call Tracy and Craig and please all be praying for the little muffin at 2:30. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt such desperation.
The significance of this appointment was undeniable. It was literally “do or die” for the little guy.
And thankfully, we saw a heartbeat. Here it is on the ultrasound. The arrow points to the heart. It looked like a tiny area of "static," like on an old TV. But still more exciting than I can put into words.
It was a little slow, 118, where they like 120-160, but it was there. I made a conscious decision not to worry about the low heart rate. I didn’t think I had tears left, but as it turns out, I did. It was “the most dramatic ultrasound ever.”
The highlight is when Dr. A said she’d see me in a month. Clearly it was all up to the muffin now.
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