The genetic counselor called me this morning and gave me the best news ever: my baby's tests came back normal! My baby's chromosomes are normal!! She also told me that we are having a girl! Makayla's wish for a baby sister is coming true.
I immediately called my husband and told him that the results came back normal. Then I called my siblings and parents to let them know that our prayers had been answered.
I thank you, Lord, for your many blessings!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
A Mother's Worst Fear
I received a call from the genetic counselor on Monday regarding my second trimester Triple Screen test, which seemed to indicate a higher than normal chance of Down Syndrome for my baby. She told me not to worry and told me I can get an amniocentesis to diagnose for DS. I can't sleep at night. I have cried and prayed. I have called everyone I know and trust, hoping for some advice on whether to get the amnio done or not. I have discussed it with my husband and he places the decision squarely on my shoulders.
I know, in my heart of hearts, that I will love this baby, no matter how he or she turns out. I believe I can deal with a baby with Down Syndrome. But my husband is not so certain and I can't blame him. Raising a child with a disability is a major thing.
After much prayer, advice-seeking, and a lot of research, I finally decided to go ahead and have the procedure done. Early this morning, my husband and I drove silently to the hospital for the test. The nurses who greeted us were very friendly and helpful.
When it was time for the test, my husband and I were ushered into a small room furnished with an ultrasound machine and a stretcher. The doctor smiled and introduced herself and her nurse helped me onto the stretcher. On the ceiling directly above me were pictures of handsome Hollywood men and a poster of a sandy beach and a palm tree. The doctor told me to relax and just stare at the pictures on the ceiling. She took ultrasound images of the baby and told her nurse that I had an anterior placenta. After a minute of examining my baby, she took out a very long needle and told me to relax. "This won't hurt at all," she said before she plunged the needle into my belly. She had lied to me: it hurt and I lost my breath.
My husband could see I was in pain and started rubbing my arm. I feared for my baby at that moment. Will the doctor accidentally poke her with the needle? Can my baby feel my anxiety? Will he or she be OK?
After they finished taking out the requisite amount of amniotic fluid and pulled the needle out, the doctor smiled and said, "That's it! You're done. Do you want to see your baby on the ultrasound screen?" I don't remember what I said but she started pointing out the baby's backside, feet, side profile and cute little fingers. Then I was ushered out of the room and brought to a recliner, where I was required to sit for at least 20 minutes. I was anxious, in pain, worried and racked with guilt. What have I done? Have I risked my baby's life?
Now it is just a matter of waiting for the results. I don't think I will be getting much sleep tonight.
I know, in my heart of hearts, that I will love this baby, no matter how he or she turns out. I believe I can deal with a baby with Down Syndrome. But my husband is not so certain and I can't blame him. Raising a child with a disability is a major thing.
After much prayer, advice-seeking, and a lot of research, I finally decided to go ahead and have the procedure done. Early this morning, my husband and I drove silently to the hospital for the test. The nurses who greeted us were very friendly and helpful.
When it was time for the test, my husband and I were ushered into a small room furnished with an ultrasound machine and a stretcher. The doctor smiled and introduced herself and her nurse helped me onto the stretcher. On the ceiling directly above me were pictures of handsome Hollywood men and a poster of a sandy beach and a palm tree. The doctor told me to relax and just stare at the pictures on the ceiling. She took ultrasound images of the baby and told her nurse that I had an anterior placenta. After a minute of examining my baby, she took out a very long needle and told me to relax. "This won't hurt at all," she said before she plunged the needle into my belly. She had lied to me: it hurt and I lost my breath.
My husband could see I was in pain and started rubbing my arm. I feared for my baby at that moment. Will the doctor accidentally poke her with the needle? Can my baby feel my anxiety? Will he or she be OK?
After they finished taking out the requisite amount of amniotic fluid and pulled the needle out, the doctor smiled and said, "That's it! You're done. Do you want to see your baby on the ultrasound screen?" I don't remember what I said but she started pointing out the baby's backside, feet, side profile and cute little fingers. Then I was ushered out of the room and brought to a recliner, where I was required to sit for at least 20 minutes. I was anxious, in pain, worried and racked with guilt. What have I done? Have I risked my baby's life?
Now it is just a matter of waiting for the results. I don't think I will be getting much sleep tonight.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Twelve weeks pregnant: The Sweetest Sound
To an expectant mother, the sweetest, most beautiful sound is the sound of the unborn child's heart beat. The sound of galloping horses helps to temporarily ease the anxieties one feels about a work in progress, one whose finished product remains unseen until many months of "ifs" and "maybes". And nothing is more beautiful than seeing that fetus moving about on an ultrasound screen, its little limbs pumping and a tiny blinking circle signifying a strong, beating heart.
This time around, Bob and I had Makayla along for the experience. She has been eager to see "her" baby after months of kissing it through my slowly expanding belly. While I imagine she expected a Kodak-style image, she nevertheless "oohed" and "aahed" along with her father as the image of "her" baby flashed on the ultrasound screen. The technician graciously pointed out to us the baby's tiny toes and fingers and its beautiful beating heart.
Having my daughter there for the experience brought back memories of my first pregnancy. I will never forget the first time I saw Makayla, then an 18 week-old fetus, on the ultrasound screen. It was something I had never experienced before and one I found awe-inspiring. And now, as I look upon the ultrasound photo of my second child, God's work in progress, I cannot help but be amazed by God's power again. The fact that a cluster of cells has grown into a recognizable human fetus in a matter of weeks is nothing short of amazing. How can one look upon the miracle of life and not believe that there is an intelligent, divine being behind the intricate design? I don't know. I, for one, give God the glory and praise for what he has created, and what he continues to create, in this my child.
This time around, Bob and I had Makayla along for the experience. She has been eager to see "her" baby after months of kissing it through my slowly expanding belly. While I imagine she expected a Kodak-style image, she nevertheless "oohed" and "aahed" along with her father as the image of "her" baby flashed on the ultrasound screen. The technician graciously pointed out to us the baby's tiny toes and fingers and its beautiful beating heart.
Having my daughter there for the experience brought back memories of my first pregnancy. I will never forget the first time I saw Makayla, then an 18 week-old fetus, on the ultrasound screen. It was something I had never experienced before and one I found awe-inspiring. And now, as I look upon the ultrasound photo of my second child, God's work in progress, I cannot help but be amazed by God's power again. The fact that a cluster of cells has grown into a recognizable human fetus in a matter of weeks is nothing short of amazing. How can one look upon the miracle of life and not believe that there is an intelligent, divine being behind the intricate design? I don't know. I, for one, give God the glory and praise for what he has created, and what he continues to create, in this my child.
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