I got out a pen and paper to try to take good notes. No habla medical jargon. She said that while my levels of the fatal trisomy's were good, the numbers that indicate a risk of down syndrome were closer to "bad" than what she was comfortable with. I was surprisingly composed as we scheduled an appointment for me that afternoon to get a more advanced screening done.
But as soon as I hung up the phone, I started sobbing. I was trying to control it, and when I realized I couldn't control it, I was trying to listen for no footsteps in the hallway so I could run to the bathroom. As luck would have it, our president appeared in my doorway just then to ask me some question about fonts...I had no choice but to turn to him with tears running down my face and say, "Oh, I'm fine!" He is divorced and only has sons, so I imagine he wanted the moment to end as quickly as I did.
I was finally able to lock myself in the bathroom and call Mike and my sister. Brittany is my medical voice of reason, Mike is my lifestyle voice of reason. Thank goodness for the 2 of them. I was able to get it together and fumble my way through an hour of work before heading to back to my midwife's office.
By the time I was finished getting my blood drawn, I finally had reasoned with myself. What was it that I was so afraid of?
It wasn't the ability to love this child. I have no doubt that this child would be welcomed into our home and hearts with no problem. Max would love and protect this baby, no matter what. The Sater girls would do the same. But what gives me anxiety and feelings of doubt is knowing that I would inevitably have to send this child out into a cold world that doesn't always understand differences. I can't control the way the playground would treat this sweet child.
(Heyyyyyy wait a minute...isn't that a risk we take with ALL kids??)
But as I was working this all out in my mind, I began to see a different light shed on the whole situation. When my life is over, I want to feel like I've accomplished something great, not just something mediocre. Sure I've had little things here and there that have challenged me, but this could be the challenge that defines me, that God entrusts me with, that reveals areas of me that I don't even know exist. This could be what makes my life even more meaningful. I started to feel proud that I could be trusted to parent a child with special needs. Could I handle it? If God says so!
As Mike arrived home that night, I think he expected to walk into the house and find me sobbing on the floor. But I had this newfound wave of energy. I was at total peace and almost felt refreshed (but a little emotionally exhausted :)) I felt like whatever was coming our way was just part of our story.
It would be a week before the results were ready, but it didn't keep me up at night. These are the risks we agree to as we decide to start a family. Just as it is with every other potential problem that a baby can have - if it's not this thing, than it can be another. We're never safe from tragedy and from challenges - but if we can try to accept the situations with grace and composure, we gain the clarity we need to see it through.
An added bonus was that this advanced screening would reveal our baby's gender, a whole 6 weeks early! When they finally did call with the results, Mike took the call so he could know the gender first and then be the one to tell me. I waited patiently all night, wondering how he would finally tell me! I went to put Max to bed, and figured he would tell me when I came out. But as I got to the last page of Max's book, I saw this:
Oh and I guess the other important part of this story is, my bloodwork came back and the baby is fine. But I guess I already knew that =)
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