We have no car seat, no stroller, no custom shelving and no name, yet Elia and I are certainly looking forward to November 11, 2011, as we prepare to welcome the birth of our second child. Last week we completed the intake forms for St. Joseph Medical Center and requested the C-section birth time of 11:11 a.m. Why not? What have we got to lose?
During much of the past eight months, our outlook was not always so nonchalant. For instance, back in April, Elia and I were looking forward to a weeklong vacation to visit friends in Texas (pronounced “TAE-has”). They are friends we had not seen for many years. Elia and I planned to fly over there with Seb, spend a few nights in Houston and a few nights in Dallas, size up Texas with the rest of the world, and enjoy a relaxing Texas-style excursion. We had an itinerary, plane tickets, a rental car reservation, and confirmation from our friends that guestroom space was available. We were set to go and very excited.
Unfortunately, a few weeks before our trip, we also had the prognosis from Elia’s general physician on her new pregnancy. Dr. Angelina determined that her pregnancy was a high risk pregnancy. After having had a miscarriage a month prior and then becoming pregnant at the soonest opportunity thereafter, Elia might have had another miscarriage any moment. Elia was grounded until further notice.
With Seb’s flight anxiety and lack of proper toilet training, I left him with her and went solo for a three night trip to Houston and San Antonio. It was just me there with good old friends Ryan and Jill, Marcus and Tanya, Kyle and Tracy and most of their kids. We gathered together in Missouri City, Texas, just north of the border, smiling, catching up, discussing business seriously and enjoying Ryan’s home brew. Meanwhile, Elia’s general physician, after performing some initial tests, had Elia back on her heels, constantly trimming her fingernails with worry regarding her pregnancy which she considered was at risk of another spontaneous abortion.
As you know, these days, any pregnancy after age 35 is considered risky. I believe age is a coefficient of a portion of the formula used to arrive at the risk index assigned to measure the degree of likelihood of potential trouble. Due to her age, Elia’s general physician said that the fetus ought to be screened for Down Syndrome and recommended a blood test. Of course, Elia, at age 35, tested positive for a Down Syndrome baby. I mean—wow, we are, as humans, relatively speaking, kind-hearted people. A Down Syndrome baby is a blessing.
By the way, probably the most disturbing aspect of this news was the question we heard from both the general physician and the ob-gyn: “What if the baby has Down Syndrome? Then what? Are you going to keep it? Because you can choose to abort, and now is the time to make your choice.” Poor Elia. Dr. Angelina shook her head and gazed down at the box of rubber gloves on the countertop.
At risk of spontaneous abortion, having just had a miscarriage, a Down Syndrome baby, what outlook could be more… disturbing? A lifeless fetus, perhaps. During a follow-up visit, her ob-gyn listened to our back-up plan while trying to locate the baby in Elia’s womb with his handheld ultrasound unit. He tried but could not manage to hear a heartbeat. He added some petroleum jelly to her belly and tried again. “Whomp-a.. whomp-a.. whomp-a..” The baby had a heart-beat: Thank you, Jesus.
The back-up plan was that Elia would have an amniocentesis performed in a week and go from there. The amniocentesis would reveal the nature of the baby’s chromosomes. The ob-gyn, an elderly Polish man who goes by Dr. Bedros, said that would be a wise decision, given that the window of opportunity to reinforce the cervix, which he observed to be opening prematurely, would be missed after two more weeks. Otherwise, he said, everything seemed fine and normal.
A week later, Elia and I witnessed the ultrasound on the high resolution screen, and, from every angle, we clearly noticed the distinct shape of a baby, absent penis. The only indication of a problem was a bright spot on the heart, that, we were told by both the technician and the counselor, is a tell-tale sign of a baby with Down Syndrome–not that there’s anything wrong with that.
After the ultrasound, a doctor arrived to perform an amniocentesis. In concert with the technician, the doctor stabbed the needle sheath into the belly, narrowly avoiding the baby’s head. Following this, he inserted the needle required for drawing fluid and attempted to puncture the embryo, to no avail. His procedure required a second attempt. He performed the stab and puncture routine once more to success and drew a vial of apple juice.
Well, my friends, the results came in, and we were relieved. The baby’s chromosomes were normal. The baby is “normal” and it is definitely a girl. Yes, a girl. We are happy and looking forward to November.
The Meandering Sidewalk 