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Reflecting on what is and could have been…

July 2, 2009

A few days ago, my little man turned two.  He’s been acting two for awhile, what with the tantrums and all, but now it’s official.  We went to the doc for a wellness check and discovered he is in the 75% percentile for his height.  My son is a horse.  When I think back to when I was pregnant with him, it’s really not too surprising.  I was soooo big, maternity clothes didn’t fit.  They would fit as long as I didn’t try to button them up.  What with the hormones and all- it wasn’t an easy time.  We were so looking forward to our new addition, but there were some concerns.  When I had my ultrasound at 20 weeks, my son had cysts on his brain.  Which can be an indicator of Trisonomy 18.  Trisonomy 18 is a rare freak genetic disorder that is terminal.  If my son had this, he wouldn’t live but a short time.  In order to find out for sure, they wanted to do an amnio.  I wanted to know about the options if he did have this disorder.  They were not good.  My choices were to carry the child to term and watch him die or abort.  I knew I couldn’t abort.  God had given me this child.  Period and The End.  So what were the benefits to an amnio?  None.  It didn’t matter.  I was having this child.  The doctor continued to tell me about the disorder and the other indicators that would present if my child had it.  My son didn’t have ANY of the other indicators.  His organs and heart were fine.  His bones all measured in the normal range.  The doctor would not commit to a solid opinion other than he MIGHT have this disorder.    He wouldn’t give me percentages or personal opinion or anything like that.  So I went home and started doing research.  Yes, there was a chance my son might have this disorder, but most likely- based on the evidence at hand- he did not.  So I proceeded with the pregnancy as if everything were normal.  Other than the size of my stomach, of course.  My son grew and moved and responded to my voice.  How could anything be wrong with him?  The hard times usually came late at night, when I couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t turn off the “What if…” voice in my head.  I didn’t tell many people the possibilities because I wanted to pretend they didn’t exist.  As far as everyone else was concerned (outside of family, of course) we were having a normal pregnancy.   Of course, I was constantly asked how far past term I was and if I was having twins.  My favorite was when I showed up at church and people would ask me, “Oh, are you STILL pregnant?”  Yeah, those were some fun times.  When the time to deliver came closer, the doctor recommended a C-section.  Did I mention my son is a horse?  Plus, my daughter’s delivery was not at all smooth.  She got stuck coming out.  Talk about uncomfortable.  The big concern with that is that getting stuck can damage the baby.  She was fine (thank goodness) but they didn’t want to risk that this time with a baby that looked to be about the size of a HORSE.  So we had the C-Section.  They hooked me up to all the fancy gizmos that told them how the mommy was doing.  My blood pressure (which throughout my pregnancy had been amazingly low) was in the stratosphere.  They kept telling me to calm down.  And honestly, I did try.  But I was about to willingly let someone at me with a glorified KNIFE for heaven’s sake.  And I was about to find out if my son would or would not have Trisonomy 18.   How could I be calm?  As my son was being introduced to the world for the first time, the Doctor exclaimed, “Would you LOOK at those shoulders?  Man, he’s big.”  Yeah, the SIZE OF A HORSE.  It’s pretty special when the doctor comments on how big your kid is.  And then all the other doctors in the room take a look and agree.  Verbally. Out loud.  With amazement in their voices.  Yes, my son is gianormous, thankyouverymuch.  But all I could do was keep asking, “Is he okay?  Is he okay?  I think I’m going to throw up.  Is he okay?”  They gave me a tiny pink bowl and ignored me.  I would try to peer around the gazillion people gathered around my son to catch a glimpse.  I strained my ears for some hint.  And then they brought him to me.  And laid him on my chest.  And he was perfect.  And they said, “You have a healthy 9lbs. 12 oz. son.”  They left out the word perfect.  But that’s okay.  I still praise God for the healthy.  And the perfect.  And yes, even for the gianormous.  But most of all, the healthy.  Not everyone is so lucky.  It makes my heart hurt to hear of others who didn’t get the healthy.  I pray God watches over them in their time of need.  He’s the only one who can truly help with that kind of hurt. 

And it’s good to know my son is still in the gianormous end of the spectrum.  Because it’s how he makes my heart feel.  Gianormous.

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