I can breathe again

Please forgive the hiatus. As I got closer and closer to my NT appointment date (this morning) I couldn't bear to think about anything 'baby.' It was getting to close, to real, the possibility of something going wrong seemed ominous and growing. I've concluded that I really was traumatized by last year's experience. I'm kind of pessimistic anyway (but I like to think 'realistic') and to have my first pregnancy go so horribly wrong I think has scarred me for life. Instead of feeling like I had a 90% shot at everything being fine at the scan I truly walked around like it was an inverted risk for me - 10% shot at happiness. 10% shot at being able to 'tell,' at being able to guiltlessly browse maternitywear without feeling like I was jinxing anything, 10% shot at avoiding the physical and emotional horrors of a second m/c, a second D&C, etc. I held off on imagining how I would tell people, I held off on engaging DH in conversations about the baby and certainly refused to talk directly to it. I calculated when we would be able to tell people if we had to start over. I didn't allow myself to think about a nursery floorplan, I imagined my life with just DH and the dogs and I thought about how lucky I am, as-is.

DH would get mad at me at times. He's one of those people who can 'choose' to be happy. So he did. And he told me to cut out my depression because I was stressing out the baby. But I wasn't really depressed and I wasn't overly stressed. I just felt a heaviness and a dark space in my life that I dared not enter for a few weeks.

The last 24 hours have been particularly tough. Thankfully I was really busy at work - I toiled all day and into the evening and didn't shut down my computer last night until 8pm. But as soon as I did, my heartrate quickened, I started to get angsty...soon we'll know. There's nothing else between now and the appointment except (hopefully) a few hours of sleep. I avoided the topic last night, I filled my time with sitcoms and listening to the pouring down rain, which I LOVED. I hoped it was a good omen. Even though I don't believe in omens. I also opened a fortune cookie last night that said I would soon be in for a great surprise. And I kept it and put it in my file with all my other OBG paperwork. This is SO not like me.

This morning DH and I arrived way too early and with my full bladder, that got downright torturous. The discomfort was, I was surprised to find, enough to take my mind off worrying about the wellbeing of the baby for a few minutes. Of course the appointment ran late even though it was for 8:25 in the morning. So I was beginning to worry I'd have some kind of accident or be so uncomfortable that I wouldn't be able to think about what was going on during the scan. But then the appointment began and the first order of business was for me to go relieve myself a little because they determined my bladder was too full.

I couldn't see the baby move when it came up on the screen. I couldn't see the heartbeat. And it was a long time (or what seemed like it) before the tech spoke. So of course I imagined her silence was because something was wrong. I couldn't stand it, so I started talking
Me: "how is it measuring?"
Tech: "Great, right on target. Perfect, good job." Ah, some relief. She sounded cheery enough. She wouldn't sound that cheery if things didn't look right, would she? And how cute, she told me good job. Like I have any control. Ok, I know I do but you know what I mean.

I started crying when the heartbeat came on. Big tears. Tears of relief, joy, regret at all the worrying I've done in the past couple months, happiness, excitement. There's really no way to describe the conflation of emotions I was feeling.

Me: Is the rate ok?
Tech: Yep, great!
Me: (noticing that the tech wasn't giving up any info as she clicked away) "Oh is that the NT measurement? How does it look"
Tech: "Beautiful, very tih."
Me: (thinking WHAT!!?! what did she say? She had an accent, russian I think. She said beautiful so it must be good, but what was that last word? Oh, it must be thin. Very thin. OH THANK GOD.)

I also asked about the nasal bone. She said it was also beautiful, and very clear. DH said the baby looked like me already and the tech heartily agreed and laughed like it was the funniest thing ever. Silly. Happy. Giddy. In those few instants my life became brighter.

And the blood results didn't disappoint. Here's the full set of stats:

PAPP-A MoM: 1.64
hCG1 MoM: .79
NT MoM: .92 (1.3mm)

Risk of Down Syndrome: 1/32,000
Risk of Trisomy 18: 1/100,000

Insane. Why me? Why did I get so lucky?

After the tech was done scanning she asked the doctor to come in which I thought was weird but I concluded it must be routine because the tech had said everything was so wonderful and beautiful. The doctor was an older woman, one of those ones who hates the internet. She said all my measurements looked good, the placenta looked good, the baby finally started moving around for her which was fun to see, and when I double checked with her about the nasal bone she said: "Have you been reading the internet? .....or are you a physician." Bitch. She wouldn't even tell me if it was present. I pretended not to know anything about the internet and told her all my friends got to know if there was a nasal bone at their scans. I hate doctors like that. Who dismiss self-study out of hand and get all paternalistic like it's for our own good that they're withholding information. It betrays their insecurities and obsolescence and the fact that they're not giving you the benefit of the doubt which is insulting. Thank god I had already gotten the info from the tech. I felt like hugging her.

Anyway, I'm thrilled. And I must have said to DH seven times on the way out, "I can't believe how lucky we are. I just can't believe it." I really can't. And now, to move on with my life...