The weekend of waiting. I felt on edge, disconnected from the world, hyper-aware of the unwell baby inside me who was also dealing with this crisis in a much more direct way.
The next few hours at the hospital were a haze of countless ultrasounds and a parade of physicians and in the end, the diagnosis was right.
I came out to the reception area and now everything looked different.
I drove from Sarilyn’s office in the east end to the ultrasound clinic downtown. I didn’t mind terribly. This felt important – I was looking after myself – and also meant I was excused from work for the next couple of hours.
I can’t remember the first midwife’s name. Might have been Andrea.