Monday, April 2, 2012

It was a Monday then too.

This time, 5 years ago, Keely still kicked away.

I went into my regular doctor's appointment. We did the usual check up, everything seemed great. Then she got the doppler out and found that precious heartbeat. It seemed... slow.

She thought it must be the machine so we used the portable ultrasound machine that was already in the room. There was that heartbeat again but it didn't satisfy the doctor. We made the trek down the hall to the big ultrasound room. Walking down the hallway, I thought to myself "I could find out the sex!". I still had no idea. None. I knew the heartbeat was slow but it was there.

The doctor puts me in the ultrasound room with the technician and shut the door. We watch in complete silence until it is apparent that the slow heartbeat is slowing down even more and under her breath, the technician whispers "oh my god". I hold out hope until the very last beat and then the tears overtake me. The technician just shakes her head no and I can see the tears have overtaken her as well. She leaves the room. She left the image of our girl up on the ultrasound screen, now completely silent, completely still.

I remember those moments like they happened yesterday, maybe even better than I used to now that the shock has worn off.

5 years ago, our lives were irreparably changed. A defining moment in life.

We miss you, Keely Rae! But we love you even more <3

1 comment:

  1. Your words, "I remember those moments like they happened yesterday, maybe even better than I used to now that the shock has worm off", resonate with me, as if I wrote them myself. Being blindsided by the departure of a child will probably always be permanent for us, as if the moements were double-dipped in platinum. Well said, Aly.

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