Looking Into the Depths

Today I got the results of my amniocentesis.

You’re probably wondering what on earth I’m talking about. You probably didn’t even know I had an amniocentesis. And that’s weird because I’m the person who tells the entire internet everything the instant it happens.

So this is a little out of character. Let me explain.

After my last round of blood tests, my stats for potential chromosomal defects didn’t get better, they got worse. Not horrifically worse, but any direction towards bad isn’t so awesome. I probably would have done an amnio no matter what because I like to know. But the evening the doctor called me with my not-so-awesome test results, I felt a cloud descend.

Despite the amount of stuff I share, there’s always some stuff that just can’t be shared because you can’t fully express it in words. And for a good year or so, things were very very sad and dark in a way that I don’t know that I’ve ever really explained. I’ve written about Graham’s diagnosis and my feelings about it a lot. But that’s not quite it, because that was not quite as sad and dark, because after his diagnosis it was no longer my fault or his fault. Then there was a reason.

Before that, there was just the fact that I wasn’t happy being with my own child. That terrible, terrible fact. And that was a sad and dark thing that I think you must experience to understand. It wasn’t post-partum depression, because it didn’t really kick in until he was 9 months old or so. But maybe it was something similar. I can’t really say.

There was a long time when I didn’t know if I could ever have another child. I didn’t think I could do it again.

It’s been 6 months since Graham started therapy and during that time our whole lives have changed. The darkness has lifted and I think we feel like real parents now. We can enjoy our child. It’s something we couldn’t envision a year ago.

(Just so you know, I don’t blame Graham for any of this. If anything, it’s because of how much he’s worked and how well he’s done that things are going so well.)

Within a month this summer, Graham turned 2, Eric started a new year of residency, and we found out we were pregnant. It seemed like all these good things were happening, like we’d finally broken our terrible streak.

But that night when the doctor called (when your OB calls after 7 pm, you don’t expect good news) I felt like it could all slip away so easily.

Because that difficult time was so difficult. And I just felt that if something was wrong, I wouldn’t be able to handle it this time. I felt like it would be even harder and I would be even more hopeless.

We’re already at a high risk for autism with any other children we have. Statistically, we’re stuck with that. We have that to worry about from the get-go. And at least if that happens, we’ll know it and have some understanding of it and have access to ways to get help. I don’t want that, but at least I think I’d have my bearings a little bit.

But more than that, the kind of disability where you never get to fully assimilate, where you never get a chance at being normal…

Guys, I just didn’t think I could do it. I couldn’t have the autism and that.

Those children deserve parents who will be completely devoted to them, who will take their problems in stride, who will never be disappointed in them. I didn’t think I could be that kind of parent, I’ve seen myself not step up and be that person. I hated the idea of feeling that pressure and that failure again.

I was overcome for about 24 hours with this terrible dread. And after that it took all my power not to think about it.

So I didn’t talk about it. I wasn’t ready. I worried so much about that sad and dark coming back.

But now I can because, thankfully, our amnio came back normal.

I’ve spent the last few weeks hoping desperately that that would be true. I wanted our good streak to keep going.

And, really, because Tessa has come to represent something to me. (Which might be a little unfair to burden a baby with who hasn’t even been born yet.) She is our chance to relax and enjoy ourselves. To not be so wound up and nervous with our first-time-parent jitters. To not get caught up in pressure or guilt or drama of any kind. To know what we’re in for and what we can’t possibly expect and accept it with open arms.

I’ve been able to look forward to her in a way I couldn’t with Graham because I didn’t know what was coming. There was so much to be done, so many things to worry about, and so many things to learn. I don’t think we’re experts, but I do think we’ve learned enough that we can be happy.

So far Tessa is a mellow thing, with only the occasional wriggle, and I’ve only felt one kick, though at 18 weeks it’ll be a while before I expect really significant movement. Still she seems more content to stay cozy and calm than her brother, who was always a wriggler and a kicker, so that I had little doubt that I was feeling baby movements when they started.

We have been calling her by her name (it appears Tadpole may be long gone) and I feel like we’ve already bonded with her. I have been working on her blanket, I try to do a few rows almost every night. It still isn’t very big, but it’s coming along.

This blanket will be very small, a newborn blanket. (Perhaps I will take her home in it??) I am thinking of making her a blanket like Graham’s, except with different colors. (Purple, white and… blue? Green? Not sure yet…) I like making things for her. I expect to try out my first pair of baby booties once I’m done with the newborn blanket, and perhaps a little hat to match.

I am also happy about my first purchase of baby girl clothes. I don’t want to overdo the pink, but I can’t help a little bit of it, especially since her hand-me-downs will have lots of brown puppies.

I don’t want to think about how I’d feel if the amnio had gone the other way. I’ve had a glimpse of it and that was enough. All I want to think about is that Tessa is okay and that after five more long months, we’ll get a chance to see her in person.

Related Posts:

• So Long, 2011
• Time to Panic, Part 1
• A Body At Rest