We moved on Friday! I was going to do a fun post with photos of our new place on Monday, but then life took a sharp turn and the move and the new place just weren't important anymore.
Monday was the day of my 20-week ultrasound. I was very excited because we planned to find out the sex of the baby. The ultrasound took a long time and 2 doctors came in to take a look, but it still never crossed my mind that something might be wrong. I simply found it strange that nobody had asked us if we wanted to know the gender. After an excruciating long wait, I finally asked my big question – "Can you tell us if it's a boy or a girl?" The doctor looked at us with a strange expression and said "It's a boy" in a very anti-climactic way. It was as if we weren't supposed to be asking that question.
Hubby and I quietly chatted about the news. Another boy. Brothers. I took a few minutes to let myself be sad that I wasn't going to have a daughter, but we discussed all the good things about having two boys – about the way they'll grow up as friends, that they can share a room and toys and clothes, and that we'll never have to worry about our teenage daughter getting pregnant or wearing slutty clothes.
Then everything changed. The doctor asked us to come up and look at some ultrasound images on the computer. He pointed the baby's nose and the lack of bone there. He pulled up slides of other people's baby's to show us the difference and how these babies all had much longer nose bones than our baby. He started talking really fast about some study and how maybe it wasn't done right, but that everybody follows it… And then he led us into another room and we were presented to a genetic counselor who pulled out a binder and began explaining amniocentesis for us.
Eventually we put together that our baby had no nose bone (this is what it said on the ultrasound report though later we learned that there is a bone, it's just quite small) and lack of nasal bone is a very strong indicator for Downs Syndrome (perhaps as high as 90%). Along with this realization, came the freakout. I cried on the subway ride home. I imagined our life raising a special needs child. We searched Google for more information about nose bones and Trisomy 21. And I called the hospital to schedule an amnio for the next day. I had to know exactly what we were dealing with.
I would have to say that the next 48 hours were the worst time in my life. My immediate reaction was to try to figure out what it would be like to raise this child. And there were so many questions and doubts. How severe would the disability be? How would we manage it? What would it do to our marriage? Would this be fair to Spencer? As I read and researched, I discovered that most people presented with a Downs diagnosis during pregnancy terminate the pregnancy (90%!). And so I started to wonder if this was an option I would consider. And I started to wrap my head around the idea that I might kill my baby – the baby that I love already and can feel kick and have made so many plans for. I learned about my options for pregnancy termination this far along. I read accounts from moms who've been through it. I composed the email I'd send to friends & family telling them that we lost our baby. I hated seeing my pregnant body in mirrors and I loathed feeling the baby moving inside me. I went to a very dark place.
Thankfully, I never figured out what decision I would make. Last night the initial results came back from the amnio and showed no extra chromosomes. The full results won't be back for 10-14 days, but the genetic counselor said there were no other indications of issues that might surface on the final results. We're extremely thankful that we have a healthy baby and do not need to make a decision.
I know that medical testing during pregnancy can do a lot of good, but I also have some serious misgivings about it too. The amount of stress and heartbreak I felt for nothing is really unconsciounable. I wonder if we'd all be better off not having these advanced screens that turn up things we never would have known or cared about 10 years ago. Sometimes less information can be better and this was definitely one of those cases. My husband who has been kind of lukewarm on the whole homebirth plan, said to me last night that after this experience he's fully on board. He understands why I'm weary of the medical intervention. I'm also grateful for my midwife who showed much more compassion over the last week than I've ever had a doctor show.
So, I'm back. I feel ready to join the world again. I keep taking deep breaths and letting out equally long sighs. I feel fresh gratitude for my family and friends and am not taking anything for granted anymore.
This and These 