Did I not say without fanfare?

Perhaps the universe isn’t clear. Trisomy 18 was completely out of the blue. Yes, it’s only a 1.5% chance, but it’s frightening, positively frightening.

The baby, our son, is just fine on ultrasound – his heart is normal, his kidneys are normal, those funny cysts in his brain (that E had too) have already started to vanish. He has no cleft palette, no club foot. He’s perfect, according to the perinatologist. He (the doctor) seemed confident. He actually said we could wait to do more growth ultrasounds and then if there was an issue seen, we could do it then, which I thought reasonable for a guy who likes to do amnios.

Here’s what I really want: I checked out a lovely book about sewing today. I want to lovingly sew for myself, for my peanut, and my baby-to-be. I want this winter to drift by with visits from friends for dinners at home, to luxuriate in  a night away, alone with hubby, while peanut is at her grandparents. Maybe a fancy dinner and a nice hotel stay somewhere in town.

I want spring to unfold gently, right around Peanut’s birthday. I want to hold a lovely celebration, with cake and balloons and some games for her. I want to plant seedlings with her. I want to see the spring deepen from spring jackets and raincoats, into warm days and cool nights. I want the barest edge of summer to appear, the heat arriving just as our son, our perfect, healthy son, arrives.

I want to nurse him in the nursing chair. Cuddle him in the baby wrap. I want to play in the kiddie pool with peanut and hold my new son. I want this summer’s maternity leave to stretch before me, the vegetables in my garden ripening and growing strong, just like my beautiful children.

I want to go to mom and baby yoga, go for walks with him in the stroller, with E. on her new bike. I want to sew sundresses to wear nursing our new baby.

I refuse to give in to fear and anger. I feel wonderful about this baby. He’s perfect. He’s ours. He will live, he will be healthy. And we will cry grateful tears over and over at his miraculous birth. I want a pregnancy without fanfare, a baby on the way.

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