Oh, baby!

After three miscarriages, I was done.  Done!  What was the point of getting pregnant if there was no baby at the end of it?  I grieved a bit, but in the end was grateful for the four wonderful girls with which I had been blessed and was ready to move on.  Over it.  Still, certain birth control methods didn't make sense for us so we used the less-reliable ones which inevitably resulted in more pregnancies.  Three more, in fact.  Two of which, predictably ended in miscarriage.

April rolled around this year and my period was late.  I didn't have any pregnancy tests sitting around (I was done, remember?) so I waited...started to feel queasy, began going to bed at 9:00, and decided to bite the bullet and take a test, even though I already knew the answer.  I didn't even make a doctor's appointment.  What would be the point?  But of course, hope springs eternal and with each day of sickness I knew that this time was different.  I became grateful for my misery, because it meant that my body was doing what it was supposed to.

Finally, twelve weeks into my pregnancy, with no bleeding or cramping to speak of, I made an appointment to see my doctor.  Sure enough, that first ultrasound revealed a healthy fetus and strong heartbeat, something I hadn't seen in quite some time.  It was exhilarating.  But the trepidation lingered and I marched on, not announcing my pregnancy to most people until we had our second ultrasound at 20 weeks.

Our theory was that my body simply can't carry boys and that my five miscarriages had been boys.  Imagine our shock when the ultrasound tech blurted out that this baby was, in fact, a boy.  Huh?  A boy was not even on our radar.  Our heads started spinning.  We barely paid attention to the rest of the ultrasound.  Until the perinatologist came in later to announce that our baby boy(crazy!) had one or two markers for Down's syndrome. 

Her face and tone were so grave - I felt as if she were declaring him dead on the spot.  It was weird, really.  She started recommending a bunch of tests... "To which end?", we inquired.  It's not as if any outcome is going to change our actions.  She persisted.  "You can get some simple blood work done that may give us a better indicator of the odds of his having Down's syndrome.  Then, given the results of the blood work, we could pursue further testing (amniocentesis) to confirm a diagnosis."  Again, we didn't quite see the point, but went ahead with the blood work since it was something that could be done right then in the office.

Do you have any idea how much blood work costs?  In this case, almost $3000!  Seriously?  To get a less than diagnostic analysis for a few chromosomal disorders?  What a racket.

I can see where the perinatologist was coming from.  She deals with high-risk pregnancies, she confronts a variety of patients and wants to ensure that they know ALL the options available to them.  I did a little bit of homework upon returning home from this memorable ultrasound experience and discovered that approximately 67% of babies diagnosed with Down's Syndrome in utero are aborted.  Sad.  That's where the doctor is coming from.  For us, it changed nothing.  We got the blood work and had a good week to sit on the information until results came back.

Here's what happened.  By the end of the week, I was almost hoping for a kid with Down's syndrome.  Having grown up with five brothers, I know the potential for absolute insanity.  I don't mean to minimize the gravity of Down's, or the resulting challenges it would present to have a child with it, but I do recognize the joy that having a visibly "impaired" child in the home would bring.  They are tender souls.  It would be a sweet, sweet experience, in spite of (and because of) the difficulty.  Recent years have taught me to "come what may, and love it."  I rarely harbor bitterness when confronted with a trial anymore...what would be the point?  It's an opportunity to learn and grow and become.  If we had a child with special needs, I would consider it a blessing.

The blood work came back.  Negative.  Pretty much zero percent chance that our son has Down's.  Relief?  Maybe a little.  But it just means my trials are coming later.  And they'll probably be much harder.

We are thrilled at the prospect of a new baby in our home.  The timing was not.at.all what I would have chosen.  But, oh what a blessing!  Aside from a miserable first 16 weeks, I have had a fantastic pregnancy.  At 37 weeks now, I still glance in the mirror and am surprised to see a basketball around my midsection.  Most of the day, I forget that I've got what had (the last four times) felt like a parasite growing inside of me - he's been so kind to my aging body.  Mostly I'm just grateful at the tremendous gift it is to bear children, a feeling of awe that is more poignant having had a glimpse at the "loss" that so many women endure as they encounter various degrees of infertility.  I'm not sure why the Lord sees fit to bless me so abundantly.  But I certainly am grateful.