I knew this day was coming, I knew it was coming when the flashbacks to the scanning room started way back in April. On this day last year we had Henry’s 20 week scan, it was the day after bank holiday Monday. Matt was late stuck in traffic so I was in a panic and entered the room crying. Perhaps deep down I knew it was going to be bad news.
The scan commenced and they promised to take it slowly to give Matt time to arrive, he came not long after I’d gone in.
As soon as there was more poking than normal and questions about dates I wondered. We were told baby was in a bad position, to go for a walk and come back. In hindsight that was their delaying tactic.
We wandered about for 10 minutes and went back to the ultrasound department. The ladies carried on with the scan and told us that Henry was measuring small (2 weeks behind). Some photos were hurriedly printed off and we were told it was a boy (of course it was a boy, it is always baby boys). The lady gently told us she was referring us to the fetal medicine team for a more detailed scan a couple of days later. She gave us a letter and if we went in shock that it was going wrong again.
In that moment we knew we’d probably be saying goodbye before we said hello for a second time.
I don’t think I’ve shared many of Henry’s scan photos, mainly as we were trying to protect our wounded hearts and latterly as his final three scans were not happy events. How can you share such painful pictures?
But today a year later I need to share his scan photo. In that moment he was small but we still had a tiny bit of hope, he was alive and I was well. Henry lived and this is the proof.