Down a Familiar Road

About 4.5 years ago, we entered the room for a routine ultrasound of our twins.  I had reached 35 weeks and was ready to welcome those precious babies any day. It was our fifth ultrasound and so this had become a regular thing to us. Stuart and I welcomed any opportunity we got to check on Spencer and Kate, cozied up in my womb.

I was beyond ready to meet them.  After being surprised with the news of twins at 19 weeks, and a pretty uneventful pregnancy until 27 weeks, I had been to Labor & Delivery 3 times for a shot to stop contractions and spent the last 8 weeks off work and on bedrest.  I had a miserable case of PUPPS (pregnancy-related rash) and sciatic pain off the charts.

By this ultrasound, I felt like I was getting better at recognizing what I was looking at. I don't know about you, but that first one - I was like - THAT'S A BABY??? How can you tell??

Laying there on that table, the tech tells us he's checking out our baby boy.  "Oh look!" I told Stuart. "He's looking right at us! I don't think he's ever done that before!"

Turns out that was a pivotal moment for the ultrasound.

We were not seeing my regular OB that day (she was out) so we were following up with her the next week to possibly schedule a double birthday.

"We've seen something on the ultrasound." (Cue stomach falling to the floor.) "It appears your son has a bilateral cleft lip and palate. We've never seen it on previous ultrasounds because he hasn't ever turned his face directly towards us."

Oh? You mean that moment I was so excited about?

She went on to tell us there wasn't a lot we could decide/know at this point, because it really was a wait-and-see-when-he's-born scenerio.  We scheduled a c-section for 6 days later, and gave me some great advice.  DO NOT GOOGLE THIS. Do not look at pictures. Do not plan.  Just get ready to have some babies.

Six days later Spencer and Kate came screaming into the world, healthy. But that started us a road on no nursing (which I had read and planned on doing), no pacifiers, reflux, Haberman feeders, hospital-grade pumping around the clock, bottle feeding, speech therapy, food coming out of his nose, liquid diets, feeding therapy, voice tests, mouth sensitivity, hearing screens, five surgeries (so far), overnight hospital stays, plastic surgeons, ENTs, sleep apnea, cartilage graft, speech pathologists, and lots of other unknowns.

Now, don't get me wrong. Spencer's cleft is minor in the world of birth defects. He is now a healthy and smart and tough 4 year old.  But it has not been an easy road.  And he's not nearly done yet.  This will always be something he deals with - he will always look a tad different. Have particular issues that are related to the cleft.

Fast forward 4 years and an adoption, and I am expecting again. (Second pregnancy, fifth kid.  Whew!)  I was really looking forward to a more 'normal' (for lack of a better word) experience.  Adding one kid ONLY to our family.  Nursing. Baby wearing. Washing less (hardly any??) bottles. Pumping less. Monogrammed pacifiers (I'm from the south.)

We go in to our 20 week ultrasound and yay! It's another boy!! What we hoped for!

And then, that familiar flared nose. The black line (of space) coming from the mouth to the nose.  We know it.  We've seen it before.

It appears this baby boy has a cleft lip as well.

"Yes, I see it," Stuart and I both say. "I see exactly what you are talking about."

You know that whole bit about, "Well at least you have walked this before," and "He has a big brother to help him out," and "At least you have a great plastic surgeon." Those are all true. Absolutely. God has blessed us with Spencer and I have learned so much about His timing, His grace, His strength through the trials. I know He has crafted this baby (all our babies!) just as much in His image as any other child.

But I still need time to be sad.

Time for me to lay down my own plans. My own desires.  Say goodbye to what I thought I might experience and accept God's plan as my reality.  And it will be okay. I know that.  But I just need a little bit of time to say goodbye to nursing (I really wanted to) and hello to pumping (BIG SIGH). I need a moment to be sad for all the times two of my boys will have someone (or themselves) ask, "What's wrong with his lip? His nose? Why is my face different in my baby pictures?" I need to be sad for at least a moment that we now have to decide whether to stay with our current plastic surgeon, whom we love and trust and beg to not retire for 16 years, or trust one closer to our new home.  I happily gave away all our Haberman feeders (those are expensive!) to our speech clinic back in KY, and now unfortunately I need them again. I gladly sold my hospital pump and now I am hoping our current insurance will pay for one this time around. I need to be prepared to send my itty bitty baby (3 months old) into the OR for the first time and that sadness is still so fresh to me.

We are uncertain about this baby's palate at this time.  It is so difficult to see on the ultrasound, very hard to diagnose prenatally.  Our perinatologist (high-risk OB we see for ultrasounds only) let us know that when there is a genetic link, usually what one has, the other too.  We are preparing ourselves for a cleft palate, which is so much more than cosmetic.

Last time, I was so thankful that God only gave me 6 days notice about Spencer.  It is not something I would have wanted to find out the first time I laid my eyes on him. But I'm also glad I didn't have months to obsess over all the unknowns.  This time, again I am thankful for God's timing. I'm glad I didn't get to experience that "relief" this baby was fine and then a surprise at the end.  I am glad I have time to research other surgeons' cleft protocol and how it is different from our current (and super conservative) plastic surgeon.  Spencer has an appointment in a few months and I am thankful I have time to send our scans to our current surgeon and get his opinion. Time to explore options, get prepared, pray for strength and endurance.

Forgive me if I can not jump on the "at least you have done this before" bandwagon just quite yet.  I'm not ready. I know that truth is there, down deep in my heart. I am reminded of it each time my 4 year old boy kisses my belly and says, "Hello this is your big brother Spencer!" I am giving it time to come to the surface naturally, with the grace of God.