Joy

My CVS test was scheduled for yesterday. I had taken two days off work and my mama had come up for the 'occasion'. They started with an ultrasound to determine the best route for the test and as soon as we saw the baby I knew something was different. It didn't look the same as the last two times.

After a few minutes of squinting at the picture I asked the technician, "so, um, where is the nuchal translucency?" She replied something vague about needing the baby to move and then after a few moments went to get the doctor. I laid there, silent. Trying not to say anything that might get my mama excited. Trying not to let myself get excited. The doctor came in the room. Eleven days ago the nuchal translucency was 4.2 mm. "Normal" is under 2 mm. Now, it was 0.8 mm.

THAT'S LESS THAN A MILLIMETER INTERNET!

As she talked about my options I half-listened and half-restrained myself from jumping off the table, screaming, crying, or grabbing the ultrasound wand as a fake microphone and singing some ecstatic song. I knew my options. I knew what I would do. I had gone over this scenario a million times in my head. I had hoped and prayed for this scenario. And now, it was here.

I declined the CVS. I let them go ahead and do a proper NT Scan. All the other measurements look perfectly normal. Cleitus has a prominent nasal bone and is measuring right on time. We'll hear about the blood results in a week or two.

The doctor and genetic counselor were careful to say that we're not out of the woods yet. That there WAS something there and it COULD mean something. But me? I'm not letting reality step in the way of my joy. I believe in miracles. And I believe that I've got a healthy baby in there.

Are You There Loretta? It's Me, God

The days are dragging until we can have the tests that will tell us more about our precious baby. I'm scheduled for a chorionic villus sampling next Tuesday and we should get some preliminary results a few days later.

We are scared, but coping. We have friends, family, and creepy Internet strangers (mwah!) praying for us and I have never in my life felt God's presence as closely as I have over the past few days. It became clear to me when I walked into church Sunday and saw that the sermon's title was "Anxiety over Loss". The pastor talked about Psalm 23, a passage I've memorized, but never internalized. I've started reading through the Psalms and have begun to identify with David's fear, but also his faith that he served a God who saves.

I feel hopeful. Hopeful that our baby WILL live, hopeful that the nuchal fold is signalling that Cleitus has an issue that is not serious or easily treatable, and better yet, hopeful that nothing at all is wrong.

And when I DO get down and start thinking about the scariest scenarios? The scenarios that end with me delivering a baby that does not survive? I feel peace. Sadness, yes, but also peace. And still more hope, for the future. Hopeful that our lives and our baby's life will serve to glorify the God that created us, no matter how short those lives may be. Hopeful for our family's happiness.

I am being blessed with a hope that is kicking despair's butt.

Walking the Line

There's a fine line between getting your hopes up and staying positive. I do not want to delude myself, thinking that everything will be okay, only to find myself cast into a deeper despair if the test results are bad. But I also do not want to prematurely assume the worst. Because that? I can't handle right now. I cannot think THAT until there is nothing else to think.

I'm trying to find a balance. I'm trying to quash my questions and fears until we know more. My inner Girl Scout is screaming, "but what about THIS? I need to BE PREPARED!" And the doctor told us we should be prepared, but "don't get too depressed yet". How can I prepare myself for terrible news about my baby without getting depressed?

I have no idea.

No words

I had a little bit of brown spotting yesterday. Because of the previous bleeding the nurse had me come in for a sonogram. We saw the heartbeat right away, but the technician told us she saw a "very large" nuchal translucency on the back of Cleitus' neck. It could be a marker for Down's Syndrome or Trisomies 13 or 18. The latter two are almost always lethal.

I'm not sure how to breathe, how to move, how to speak.

9 Week Letter

Dear Cleitus,

We told your Great-Granny Collum about you last night. It was her birthday and we wanted to surprise her with some good news. When I said the words, she screamed and laughed. She was so happy, just like your Granny was when we told her several weeks ago. I know that as we begin to tell other people about you over the next few week, we will hear many similar reactions, especially from the Collum side of the family.

And while some people might look at that kind of excitement and yelling as a little bit crazy, I know that it means that you, Cleitus, are a very lucky little baby. You are SO LOVED. Already. Before anyone knows anything about you other than your penchant for changing your mind about craving mac and cheese after your daddy bought four boxes of it. It doesn't matter if you wear pink or blue, inherit your daddy's curly or your mama's straight hair, have a Type A or Type B personality, or prefer science or literature. You are loved and you are being born into a family full of love. You may not realize it, but that feeling you'll get when you walk (or are carried, because I guarantee that your relatives will rush to the car to get you) into your Great-Granny's house is Love. It's a love that gives, forgives, inspires, and comforts. And I cannot wait for you to experience it.

Love always,

Mama

Pregnancy Symptoms: Repressed White Girl Version

It's common in pregnancy to have steamy sex dreams. It's also common in pregnancy to have cramps and gas pains. What I've NEVER heard was common in pregnancy is to wake up with severe cramps and gas pains every time you have a sex dream. Every time, usually when things in my dream start getting good. And these aren't just mild pains either, no, they are hobble to the bathroom and spend 15 minutes laying on the floor moaning pains.

I've come to the conclusion that something in my subconscious is telling me that these dreams are BAD and making me suffer for them. God may kill a kitten every time YOU touch yourself, but I'm afflicted with paralyzing pain every time I think about touching someone else. Including my husband. Which is totally not fair because I can't actually DO any touching do to doctor-mandated pelvic rest.

(Actually, I could do the touching but I'm lazy if I don't get anything for my effort).

I'm blaming my stiff fundamentalist Norwegian relatives for this one.

Fear and Hope in a 24 Hour Period

At church on Sunday I started having intense pain in my lower stomach/pelvic area. It was so bad I walked out and went to the bathroom where I discovered red blood. Lots of it. I ran back to get Victor and told him we had to leave. As soon as I got in the car I started sobbing. We drove to the closest hospital (in retrospect, an extra 5 minutes of driving would have probably saved us a lot of trouble). The staff took me up to Labor and Delivery, had me put on a gown and a pad thicker than most diapers, and left us there. For about an hour. Because they could not figure out how to enter me into their system. Finally they took some blood and left for another hour. No infection, hcg was at 55,000. More waiting and then I got wheeled down to the basement for an ultrasound, as soon as I drank a ton of water. Evidently they thought a trans-abdominal ultrasound would be appropriate even though the technician admitted that they usually were only good for women who were at least 13 weeks. She couldn't see anything so she let me pee and then went for the dildo-cam.

We saw our little gummy bear, but the technician kept having me hold my breath for extended periods of time to see if she could ascertain the heart rate. Her "unofficial" report was that she couldn't find it but she did think she saw a flickering. After more waiting the doctor came up and basically said I was most likely going to miscarry because the baby was measuring about a week behind my EDD based on my last period. He ignored my comments about having ovulated about a week "late" and said I just had to go home and wait.

Monday morning we called my practice. They gave us another ultrasound and the technician said she "definitely" saw Cleitus' heart beating! I was so relieved! And she saw something else too. Either a bleed or a second gestational sac.

So maybe I have some bleeding issues, maybe I have a baby and a blighted ovum, or maybe I have twins.

Twins?!

Another ultrasound in six days.