Downs Syndrome. Trisomy 18. Trisomy 13. Syndactyly. Ectrodactyly. Hydrops. Spina Bifida. Osteogenesis Imperfecta. Diaphragmatic hernia. Gastroscisis. Omphalocele. Clubbed feet. Renal agenesis. Anencephaly. Acrania. Cleft palate. Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome. Fetal Demise. Miscarriage.

These words are a part of so many people’s stories. People’s stories that I have played a part in. People who I have had to stare in the face as the doctor delivers these words and the news they carry with them.

There is no dread like watching two parents wear expressions of utmost bliss and knowing that in mere moments, you are going to watch it fade away as their world changes forever.

So, I’m sorry that I don’t share your veracious desire to know the gender of your baby.

I touched on the gender issue briefly in a previous post, but thought that it deserved some expounding, due to it being a pretty prevalent issue.

I’ll admit, I’ve had to undergo a heart change in this area. I have had to really chew on why I feel so passionately about this and why I am sometimes so unwilling to extend grace. I think the root of it is that I misunderstand (or refuse to understand) a patient’s ignorance as a lack of gratitude. You see, everyone assumes, without even realizing it, that they are going to have a healthy baby and a perfect pregnancy, which is a luxury I’ve lost as a result of this job. They don’t live in the worldview that I do, so they don’t see pregnancy as I do.

In their world, pregnancy is about weekly baby bump pictures and showers and preparing for the coming of new life; just a season. In my world, while I think all the afore mentioned are fun, pregnancy is about the welfare of Mom and Baby; my day-to-day.

Oftentimes, my reaction has been to fume and seethe internally, “If they could have met the patient I scanned right before them, maybe then they’d get it. Maybe then they’d understand. Maybe then they’d put more thought into the health of their baby than in whether or not the baby is the gender they want.”

However, it’s wrong for me to wish anything on those parents other than ignorant bliss. I’ve seen the other extreme too, when that very same bliss has been snatched away and replaced with heartache and worry that perhaps this baby will be affected like the last. It’s pitiful and gut-wrenching.

Then, there are the patients & co. that honestly do care more about the gender than they do their baby’s health. It’s true. They really exist. I’ve scanned them.

In those cases, I take a deep breath, thank God for the health of their baby on their behalf, and play the mantra in my head on repeat, “Mom AND Baby are my patients, Mom AND Baby are my patients”. If I can’t influence the patient & co. to be grateful for their healthy baby, I at least have the power to do my part in making sure that Baby is okay. I won’t allow anyone’s contorted priorities steal that away from me.

Working in a high-risk facility has been so good for me. It has taught me so much about my craft. About how to be resilient. About how to wear another’s shoes and give the benefit of the doubt like a handout, even when I’d rather not. It’s a process, but for the good of Mom, Baby, and myself, I’m striving.

Side note, I just want to take a minute to thank everyone that has subscribed to my blog thus far. The stats are just numbers, but I know behind them are faces of those taking the time to read my writings. I cannot tell you how humbled and appreciative I am of that. You all make my little heart so happy. Thank you.

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