“Your baby has an echogenic bowel.”

She said matter-of-factly, barely looking away from the ultrasound monitor.

“What does that mean?” I asked, my insides beginning to tremble.

“Echogenic bowel is a marker. It could mean anything from the baby having Downs Syndrome to CF to nothing at all…or it could be still-born.” She explained nonchalantly. 

I took a deep breath, attempting to appear calm but feeling as though someone had just punched me in the gut. 

“In the state of Illinois you may terminate your pregnancy up to week 24. You are at week 21 so you have options.”

“Well, I can tell you right now I won’t be terminating this child.” An edge was evident in my voice and my eyes felt like daggers. Shock and sadness gave way to anger. Who does this woman think she is?! I wanted to yell at her to get out and leave me alone but I still had questions. Taking a deep breath…

“What are the chances of having a special needs child?” 

“There is no hard data on that. Doctors have just found this is a potential marker”

“So is there a ballpark? Like 1 out of every 100 kids with echogenic bowel?”

“Nope.”

I want to strangle this woman. She delivers me the worst possible news during an ultrasound visit that I thought was just “routine.” My doctor had sent me to the hospital saying that Finley was not in the right position for her ultrasound machine and we would need to go to the hospitals get some pictures at other angles. Nothing was wrong, just needed to get all the measurements that a 20 week ultrasound required to make sure baby is healthy. Nothing was wrong. We had some dear friends in town and I had told Matt that I would be fine on my own. Nothing was wrong. Now, as I lay on this cold, hard hospital bed with cold ultrasound gel drying on my swollen belly and a cold, hardened technician handing out bad news like it was a turkey sandwich, a sob threatened to work it’s way out of my throat as I remembered my phone had died on the way to the hospital. 

“Can I use the phone to call my husband?” I stammered.

“Sure. Dial 9 first. I will be back with the pediatric cardiologist to check on the heart.” She walked out. 

Relieved to be on my own I dialed Matt’s number with shaky figures. The phone rang a few times then went to voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail again. “God, please let him answer.” Third time…

“Hello, this is Matt.”

“It’s me.”

“You ok?”

I broke. Sobbing.