Part 7 - Worst weekend ever...

I should probably tell you that I'm probably the least patient person I know, if not in the world. When I called Dr. K's office on Friday afternoon and was told that, due to my insurance, the amnio specimen had to be transported all the way to California, and they actually just received it. I know it had to be done that way, but I was just so anxious to know something. I'd already fielded so many phone calls from family - my sister, all 3 of my aunts, etc - that I was SO sick of hearing everyone telling me that they know a hundred people who were told this very same thing, and not one of them came back with a positive for Down Syndrome. I know they were just trying to help the only way they knew how, but it wasn't helping me. It was only making me think that all of those negative results were just boosting my chances of being the one positive out of those hundreds.

All weekend it seemed as though I was getting signs to tell me to expect a positive test result. One of my absolute favorite TV shows is "The Soup", and host Joel McHale** just happened to make a very tasteless reference to "Corky" from Life Goes On (which I never watched because that was a channel we didn't have when I was growing up... what??? I didn't have cable, OK??) Also, there was a big article in the Lifestyle section of our local paper in regards to older parents of now grown children with disabilities (and one of those featured was a young man with Down Syndrome).

Most importantly, as I do with most things, I tried to visualize the end result. I just could not visualize in any way, shape or form Dr. K telling me the results were negative for Down Syndrome. I could only hear him confirming the diagnosis.

I stayed home all weekend. I had my good moments where I knew I would love this baby no matter what. I had bad moments where I cried buckets of tears for this child, because I could remember how physically and mentally disabled children were treated when I was in school. I grew up in a rural community, and our school was one of few in the area that had a special education department. Special needs children were actually brought in by bus to our school because their school districts did not have the facilities to teach them. I remember walking to class and hearing people making fun of them, and there was one person in particular who would strike up conversations with a mentally disabled blind girl, and get her to say naughty things that she would never say otherwise - she was just trying to impress him because she thought he was her friend.

The above so upset me that my "dog" (she was more my first baby) SweetPea, a beagle mix, stayed next to me to comfort me. If I went to the bathroom, she came with me, even if I was being sick - which she had, up to this point, stayed outside the bedroom for. Once when we were sitting on the lounger together, she very lightly and gently placed her paw on my belly and left it there for hours. It was like she was telling me that she would do anything to protect this baby. It was then that I knew I would protect her against anything and everything as well.

Monday finally came around and I forced myself to go into work because I just needed to get out of the house for a bit. My eyes were very sore from wiping away tears with tissues, and (in my head, I'm sure) they made a scratching sound when I blinked. I didn't care what I looked like, and I didn't care if I made people at work uncomfortable with my situation. I just wanted Dr. K to call.

At 10:15 the call came in while I was working the front desk. Dr. K said "I have the results here, and it's not very good news." I held it together as he spoke, but my heart started pounding in my ears, and I became short of breath. He didn't keep me on the phone long, but said he'd have his receptionist call me later with an appointment to come into the office on Wednesday and meet with a genetic counselor. When I hung up the phone, I could feel the eyes of my coworkers on me. I started to sob uncontrollably while running to the back office. I heard the manager call for one of the other girls to cover my position as she followed me into the room. She held me as I cried and told me everything would be all right.

I don't know if I believed her - after all 1 out of every 2 babies with Down Syndrome have severe heart problems, and if we couldn't beat the other odds, how could we beat those?


**I still love Joel McHale and "The Soup" - I've long forgiven him for these remarks.