Frank

Frank is my ultrasound man. I’ve had several during the course of this pregnancy and expect to have one each month until the baby is born. Frank is the one who told us that we were having twins when I was 8 weeks along. He laughed with us and shared the joy. He wasn’t cynical or distant. I think he enjoyed being part of our excitement, fear, and celebration.

The day he showed us the twins, I stood up from the table went to the restroom to relieve myself, and that’s when I saw the blood. Frank sent us over to my doctor immediately, but told us not to worry. It’s probably just the excitement.

I went back for another ultrasound 4 weeks later. It was a young lady who performed the test that time. I knew something was wrong when she stopped talking and wouldn’t show me the screen. I could see her hand shake as she fiddled with the keyboard and kept tugging on the cord around her neck. She didn’t know how to handle what she saw on the screen. She just walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later instructing me to go to my doctor. She then gave me a picture of one baby and walked out.

My next time back to that room there were 3 technicians hanging around chatting: Frank, the young lady, and another guy. It must have been a slow day. They all looked at my file and the two guys talked about who would perform my ultrasound. I was relieved when Frank won. I felt like he was my lucky tech. I wasn’t ready for anymore bad news.

While he got set up we talked a little about the twins and the loss. He wasn’t shy about showing me the deceased baby and explained what was happening to the fetus. Then he gave me all the good news about the living baby. This was the day he told me we were having a boy. That’s when I told him he was my lucky charm.

“Then ask for me every time you come in, "he responded. I’ll do all of your sonograms. Just don’t come on Mondays. I’m off on Mondays.”

It was the sonogram last month when Frank earned a special place in this pregnancy saga...and in my heart. Once again he showed me where the deceased baby, Baby B, or Eli as I’ve named him, had been. There wasn’t much left of the little one. I became quiet. Frank didn’t look at me, but with a gentle voice he said, “You haven’t lost him. He’s absorbed back into you and he’s part of you again. That’s how I like to think of it, anyway.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. He brought a new perspective to the loss for me. There’s still sadness, but he’s right. Eli’s not lost. He’s with me.

Then Frank printed out a picture for me to take home to Pat to prove that he is indeed having the son he’s wanted for so long. He walked me out to the hallway laughing and said, ‘See you next time, Yvonne.”

That’s Frank. He’s my ultrasound man.