November 2, 2011

If you were to ask me what happened on November 2 of any year between 1983-2010, I would have no idea. I wouldn't be able to really recount what the day was like, what my thoughts were like, or where I even was.

Although, if you're talking November 2 of either 2002 or 2003, chances are I was losing hair and gaining weight somewhere in the Northwest as an LDS missionary. :)

But November 2, 2011 will be a date I will never forget in my entire life. I remember the week before how stressed I was--because November 2, 2011 marked the date we had our first doctor's appointment for this pregnancy. Annie was 8 weeks pregnant with The News and this was the appointment that, one year earlier, had shattered our world (see post titled "December 17").

Our appointment was for 2:30 and I showed up to the doctor's office at about 2:00. I figured that I was not much good at work that day, so I thought I'd just occupy the sofa at Valley Obstetrics in Provo, Utah (a fantastic group of people by the way). I remember watching Annie pull into the parking lot and observing her walk into the office. She had left work early and was calling it a day as well. I could tell she was nervous, but she also appeared confident.

We went to the exam room where our doctor Heidi came in. I think I cracked some joke about me being up on the examination table and I'm not sure how she took it (I'm sure I nailed it ;)).  The truth was I just wanted the appointment to be over. I just wanted to make a positive phone call to the people I loved. I wanted to go home with Annie and NOT have to sit down and ask "why."

Heidi did the doctor thing and said Annie was measuring right at 8 weeks and 4 days. Because of our history, she ordered an ultrasound for that same afternoon. My stomach turned and my palms were raining sweat. You'd have thought I just ran into the girl of my dreams in between 6th and 7th period at Canyon View Junior High School (I won't disclose her name...not even now!).

We went into the ultrasound room and were greeted right away. I remember the moment that the technician began the ultrasound--I almost couldn't even look at the screen. It really didn't take long before I could see a flashing light on the screen and the technician confirmed that it was indeed The News' heartbeat--182 POWERFUL BEATS PER MINUTE.

I was trying to be cool and not cry, but I couldn't help it. The tears were filling my eyes and I didn't care at all--it was easily the best news (no pun intended with our unidentified child) I have ever had.

When we called our families, I could feel instant relief. We knew we weren't out of the woods by any stretch of the imagination, but we knew we had survived. We knew we had a living, heart-beating, size of a bean child--and that's all we cared about!