Today has been really difficult at work. I can't concentrate on the task at hand, and it feels like I'm living in a bubble, where I'm disconnected from the outside world. I feel so nebulous...
And no, I haven't been hitting the good cough syrup. I am just feeling unwell, generally. I feel like a large passenger ship, steaming through the north Atlantic one chilly April night in 1912....
And then, as if things weren't bad enough, we hit an iceberg...
My wife calls shortly 2pm this afternoon, sobbing. The laboratories that run the tests on her blood draws from the OB-GYN appointments called to say that my wife has a high potential (1 in 89 chance) for having a baby with Down's Syndrome or one with a heart defect - that if the baby survived the pregnancy, it would die soon after birth.
What the hell kind of thing is that to tell an expectant mother?! I mean damn, she already has gallons of hormones coursing through her blood, and she is already so emotionally invested in the child... I sure as hell wouldn't want the job that had to break that kind of news.
"Call ahead to Davy Jones' locker for a reservation..." My concentration - weak as it was today - is totally sunk.
Unfortunately, this isn't the kind of thing that I can break back in with happy news tomorrow. There will be an ultrasound on the morning of June 29th, with a geneticist present. Then, if they don't find anything wrong, they will still plague us with the "what-ifs" until the baby is actually born.
We had to fight so hard with the last one. Five weeks early, in the NICU for three weeks. She is a fighter, and came through in flying colors. I hope with all my heart this next little one can do the same.
No comments:
Post a Comment