Remembering Doria

One Father's Journey after the Death of his Daughter

We Did Not Beat the Odds

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After 8 long weeks of waiting, today was ultrasound day. Today was the day that we were going to find out whether our Zoe had genetic issues that we needed to prepare for or cry over (in the extreme worst case). It was a long wait for 8 weeks, even though I realized late last week that I had forgotten all about it for a couple weeks. Yes, that’s possible.

This morning really had some moments of drag, but they got better. I found some nice ways to distract myself, had a fun couple of conversations along the way, and a nice lunch at Subway on the way to the doctor, and a whole lot of nice time to pray. When the sandwich was finished, I knew that I was still nervous to head in, but we had an appointment, and a real need to find out these answers. So an odd thought crossed my mind. Memories of the different difficulties that I/we have lived through (there’s a list or something coming eventually for context) have run through my head, and on the way out of Subway, it struck me that it was time to go ahead and face the music “because that’s just what we do.”

Today, we got the news we were waiting for. Zoe’s little bubble chose to cease and decyst. Just like the odds said was supposed to happen. Just like 99% of the babies who form that little cyst experience. It’s gone. No trace, because that’s just what these cysts (usually) do. I looked pretty intently at the ultrasound TV up on the wall. As strange as it sounds, when the tech took the pictures of Zoe’s brain, I was extremely pleased to see nothing. That probably would never happen again, but it was exactly what I wanted this time. She’s healthy. She’s growing a little faster than normal, maybe a week ahead, which fits one of our dream scenarios. Zoe’s heartbeat was spot on, we got to sit and listen, and we got ourselves preregistered for that eventual trip to the hospital. It all really came together this afternoon. As far as we can tell right now, Zoe is feisty and determined to live. Doria was pretty feisty, too, so we know that anything can happen, but right now, we are not beating the odds. That is exactly what we want to see.

The odds really were with us all along. I knew it. Becky knew it. It was plain as day by the numbers, but the numbers don’t matter when your first daughter dies. They don’t matter until you see that that you haven’t beaten the odds this time, and so far, we have not. Hallelujah! Let’s land the plane with the human hero of the story, the one who’s 64 weeks along on our surprise quest for a little daughter, because she said it best. We went to our favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner, and the place was filled with children. One table had a tiny little child, and we had a ton of fun pretending not to watch until Becky uttered the words “We’re about to have one of those.” We know the risks, but it feels like we can take it to the bank right now.

Zoe lives. After all this time, we’re only a few weeks away.


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