Getting Ultrasounds

I’ll never forget that Tuesday. The anticipation and joy of seeing our baby during the anatomy scan filled the air, as Taylor and I watched the little movements on the ultrasound screen, so excited for this milestone in our pregnancy. I remember thinking how beautiful and perfect everything was. We were in that sweet, blissful space where nothing could go wrong. We even left the clinic with another set of photos, eager to share them with family and friends.

But that evening, things shifted in a way we never saw coming.

A call came from our secondary midwife—someone we hadn’t even met yet. At first, I assumed it was just a routine check-in, but there was a pause in her voice. She began by asking about the fetal echocardiogram that had already been scheduled because of Taylor’s heart history. At first, I wasn’t concerned. After all, the scan was just precautionary, something we had planned from the start. But then, she hesitated, asking if anyone had gone over the results of the anatomy scan with me. That’s when everything changed.

As she began reading the report aloud, I felt the air grow heavy. Words like “unclear visualization” and “small aortic arch” filled the silence. Taylor and I sat in shock, knowing this wasn’t the news we had hoped for. Even though she told us to take a breath, to wait for further testing, I already knew. Big mistakes don’t often happen in scans like this.

The next day at work, when friends asked how the scan had gone, I tried to hold onto a shred of hope. Maybe it was a small error or something easily fixable. But deep down, I knew the truth—I could feel it.

That Thursday, we had the fetal echocardiogram, and I could sense a change in the air. This wasn’t like the previous ultrasounds, full of excitement and joy. This time, we were looking for something wrong. The excitement was gone. And though we saw our baby move, flip, and even open and close their mouth, it didn’t feel the same. I joked to Taylor that this baby was going to be an athlete, but even then, I was bracing for the worst.

Later that day, the call came. The MFM doctor told us he wanted to share the preliminary results as soon as possible. He explained that the radiologist had called him directly, something that doesn’t typically happen unless there’s a serious concern. I knew what was coming before he even said the words.

"Incompatible with life."

I’ll never forget those words. They stopped everything—our hopes, our dreams for the future, everything we had imagined for our child. In that moment, time stood still, and nothing felt real.

Those words marked the start of the hardest journey Taylor and I would ever face. It’s a journey that changed us, and as I continue to share this story, I do so with the hope that it brings understanding and comfort to those who may need it. We were navigating the unimaginable, and those words were just the beginning.