So I did go to the doctor last week and it was a pretty quick visit. There's the weigh-in (no net gain so far), the blood pressure check and, of course, there's the ever popular peeing-in-a-cup that I suspect I shall become quite good at before this is all over. When the doctor finally came in he produced a little machine that looked like a mix between a Walkman and a Magna-Doodle and proceeded to doodle around on my stomach with it and we got to hear the Nubby's heartbeat. Chuk-a-chuk-a-chuck-a. That is one serious little beating heart. 150-some bpms, reports the doc, just as it should be and just in the right place.
So that's a relief, and we're basking in the glow of our healthy little parasite when we are presented with some pamphlets. Apparently there is a decision to be made before the next visit and that is whether or not to have some tests done to see if 1) I'm a carrier of certain recessive genes or 2) there has been some chromosomal defect in the fetus. My first inclination that day was, sure, if there's a test why not take it - a sentiment that no doubt did little to discourage my fringe status in high school. However, since then the topic has caused much consternation and discussion. First off, if any of the tests prove positive there's nothing that can be done for the baby until it is born. The only action that can be taken at the time the results are found out is termination.
While I am politically pro-choice, I am certainly not pro-abortion. I have always thought, from a personal standpoint, that they should be reserved for worst-case scenarios, but I have never been in a place to determine what that worst-case would be - for me - until now. These are not thoughts that rest easy on me, even in the private recesses of my brain. And this is not a decision I was prepared to make as most of the literature I've read on pregnancy says that tests like these (my doctor has offered the triple-screen) were reserved for mothers over 35.
At this point, I am resolved against having the tests done and my husband agrees with my position. After all my reading, it is hard to think of a case where termination is a better option than a little baby. But of course, once the seed has been planted, the little sprout of worry is there. What if my beautiful little baby was born with some problem that caused it to be in terrible pain? Is that something I should have prevented, given the opportunity?
I don't really know how to end this post. I will note that I had a terrible stomach bug over the weekend. I lost nine pounds in a day, but I have since recovered. I called my doctor on Sunday morning, worried for the little alien that lives off me, fearing there was little of me left to live off of, but the doc was unconcerned and did not miss a beat. "Oh don't worry about babies," he said, "they take care of themselves in there." Here's to hoping I can do half as well once the Nubby is out here.
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3 comments:
I don't think you should take any of the tests either. I can't think of any instance where a termination would be better than a little baby, because God put that little baby inside of you. So then what would be the point of the tests, if that's not even an option for you? So I agree with u is what I'm saying basically. I'm sure there wouldn't be any problems anyways :)
hi court - hope you don't mind us reading your blog - I didn't know you had one until your sistor told me:) You are a very creative writer - you should submit articles for publicationing! like my new picture?
The first mother.
That first flutter. Her body was changing, growing and stretching in unpredictable and unsettling ways. The first mother in history conceived a child, carried him to term and gave birth without ever knowing what to expect next.
She didnt't have a girlfriend to confide in when Adam just didn't understand her moods. She had no one to assure the young mother that sudden clumsiness was normal or that the awful bloated feelings would pass. Her experience was the ultimate as natural childbirth goes - she mdae it without the benefit of an obstetrician, a midwife or a drop of morphine. She couldn't even run to her mother!
And that was just the pregnancy.
She recalled cradling Cain in her arms as a newborn and gently leading him to nurse for the first time. She remembered fingering his tiny hands and counting all his toes, one by one. She didn't know she could love someone so much.
How, oh how, would she ever be able to be what he needed her to be - his mother? Eve answered her own question when she spoke in the afterglow of giving birth. "With the help of the LORD I have brought forth a man." (Genesis 4:1)
No one was there to inform Eve about the significance of what had just transpired. They didn't have to. She got it. She instinctively knew what every mother knows in an instant: She had not brought forth this miracle by her own power. And almost simultaneously, she knew she would not be able to raise him in her own strength either. The very first mother in history would have to raise her child the very same way mothers throughout history have conceived and nurtured children - fully relyig on God's help.
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