Sunday, 25 April 2010

What a difference a day makes (well, three days, but who's counting?)

Friday 16 April, 3pm. St. Thomas' Hospital.
Excited, and just a little bit apprehensive, D and I go in for the 12 week scan. After seeing the heartbeat, and confirming that there is indeed a little person in there, it becomes clear that the (as it turns out, very junior) technician is concerned. More people come into the room, look at the screen, talk amongst themselves in some weird medical language and then ignore us. Wonderful. Eventually, we're told that the nasal bone is absent and we're high risk for Downs. Then we're told we need to leave the room, as they don't want to overrun on their scan schedule.
We're taken to a family room (another brilliant sign - haven't been in one of these rooms since my Nan died) and basically told our only options are to have a CVS test or wait until I'm 16 weeks and then have an amniocentesis. I ask if we can have another scan on the NHS - maybe the baby was in the wrong position, maybe they were all blind - the answer is no. So, no choice. I book into The Portland for a second opinion.

Tuesday 20 April, 10am. The Portland.
This is more like a hotel than a hospital. I notice a leaflet advertising an open weekend for the labour ward - I pick one up in hope. Plus, it will give D a good laugh. (He couldn't make it, by the way, he had a major event on at work that couldn't be rescheduled. I brought my mum for support, should the news be the worst.) We go in the scan room / hotel suite and the Professor puts the machine on my tummy. His first words: "The nasal bone is clear as day - you can see it right there (points at screen). Was it a technician that did the scan?"

I have never, never, never felt so relieved in all my life.