You know that prenatal blood work that tells you in a few days the sex of your baby? Well, we did it when I was pregnant with Leo, but not for the reason you think. We did it because at the 11-week screening, which I thought was just a routine sonogram check-up, they saw that the baby had a thick NT, or Nuchal Translucency, a marker for a chromosomal abnormality.
I remember going in for the screening test with my mom, my one-and-a-half-year-old daughter, and my mother-in-law. I went in thinking this sonogram was just a basic check up on the baby. It never occurred to me that here was when they checked for abnormalities that might be a marker for a genetic disorder. The only thing that mattered to me going into that visit was to see my baby move. And he did. Leo was moving, sucking his finger, and squirming around in my belly. My eyes teared as I stared at my baby, wondering whether it was a boy or a girl. The tech finished and told us she was going to go get the doctor. All routine stuff that had happened with my first child. A few moments later the tech came back in and said that the doctor wanted her to do a vaginal ultrasound on me. This was when the first tiny alarm went off in my head. I told my mom to take my daughter home because she was beginning to get antsy and it was getting close to her nap time. In all honesty I didn’t want her to go. I wanted my mom to stay there with me and hold my hand just in case, like I was a little girl again. I asked to go pee before they shoved something near my bladder. In the bathroom I remember I kept praying to God to please let everything be ok. To please let this just be that the baby was in a bad position and that they couldn’t get a good image of something. I told God that I couldn’t handle if something was off with my baby. Well, I think it’s safe to say that God knew better.
I walked slowly back to the exam room. When the tech finished up the ultrasound, she went back to get the doctor. I kept saying to myself that nothing was wrong. I had seen the baby move and he/she looked perfectly beautiful and strong. When the doctor came in, I saw her face. It was a serious face. She asked me if I was alone. At that moment I wanted to cry. It still had not occurred to me that Trisomy 21 was one of the many things she could tell me my baby had, but I knew she was going to give me “bad” news. I can’t remember exactly what the doctor said next, but it was something along the lines of, “Unfortunately I see something here that could be a problem.” I wanted to disappear. I’ve never felt so alone in my life. I kept my eyes wide open scared that if I blinked, I would begin crying. I wanted to be strong and I thought that meant not crying. She went on to explain the possibilities of what my baby could have. Then she gave me options. Invasive testing to determine 100% if my baby had a chromosome abnormality, blood work that would give us results that were 99% accurate, or termination. I called Leo’s dad to tell him what was going on. He was working and couldn’t come to the sonogram. We both agreed that the blood work was our best option. He affirmed this by saying, “It doesn’t matter what the tests say. We will love this baby no matter what.” I loved him for saying that, but I was still scared. I went outside with my mother-in-law and as she tried to give me reassuring words I soaked in the sun. She said that she was sure nothing was wrong. That it was probably a mistake and that she thought it was a boy because boys always give mothers the hardest time. I spent two weeks waiting for the results trying to convince God that I wouldn’t be able to handle a baby with Trisomy 21 or any other disability. I was even foolish enough to try and make deals with him.
After two excruciatingly long weeks, we got a call to go into the office for the results. My mom came with me since Leo’s dad had an interview for work and couldn’t make it. The doctor sat us down at her desk across from her and said, “Unfortunately the blood results came back with a 99.9% chance for Trisomy 21 – aka Down Syndrome.” The first thing I asked was if this affected my daughter’s chances of having a kid with Down Syndrome when she was older...don’t ask me why. I had five million questions, but the worst part was that my mom was the one to remember to ask the most important question. The question most people have when they take the blood work nowadays - whether the baby is a girl or a boy... “It’s a boy,” replied the doctor.
Back in the car, I hesitantly called Leo's dad to tell him what the doctor had said. His reply was, "That's my boy!" I proceeded to message family members because I did not have the will to call people up. This was the message I sent them: "Hi family, just came back from the doctors. The baby has Trisomy 21, Down Syndrome. The chances of us having a baby with Down Syndrome at our age is .08% so I believe that God has his reason for putting this baby in our family and I know that if God wants, and if this baby is born in April, he will be the most loved baby ever! Thank you for all of your prayers. We love you!" I didn't realize how right I was at the time. Now, I find myself thanking God every day for placing this wonderful boy in our lives. #nothingdownaboutit
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