 Thanksgiving Tears
By Vicki Schultz
It's going to be a very good Thanksgiving," my doctor said, her voice reaching through the telephone line and giving my heart a squeeze. I looked at my husband in the bed beside me and started to cry. "So the baby's not affected?" I squeaked into the phone.
"Not even a carrier," my OB/GYN confirmed.
If relief could be tasted, I'd have been feasting on pizza and ice cream for breakfast.
My husband asked, "If everything's okay, why are you crying?"
To which, I cried harder. You see, I had waited eight days to find out the results of my amniocentesis, to learn if the baby in my womb would be devastated by a certain genetic mutation or merely a carrier. His odds were not good. But here my doctor was, telling us we'd lucked into the best twenty-five percent possible: Our baby was not affected OR a carrier. Yes!
I think a few tears were justified.
And because the results had come in the day before Thanksgiving, I would not have to wait the long weekend to find out the fate of our child. A child I was already in love with. A child I planned to keep, no matter what.
I'd miscarried once already, a trauma made worse by the news that we were chromosomally challenged, our genetic material mismatched just enough to cause problems for our offspring. I thought about adoption, even attended an informational session, but my husband and I wanted to make a child of our own. It wasn't such a gamble, we told ourselves. With prenatal testing, we could discover any problem early on and terminate the pregnancy.
But by the time my OB/GYN called me, after seventeen weeks of nurturing the little tenant in my belly, I knew I couldn't end my pregnancy based on her verdict. I would keep this child and learn to deal with his challenges, whatever they may be. Reaching this decision had been the biggest emotional rollercoaster of my life. So when my doctor brought the ride to a safe stop, telling me my baby was all right, I was so relieved I cried. I had never been more thankful.
Seven years later, I have even more to be grateful for: two beautiful, healthy sons. I skipped the rollercoaster the second
time around, foregoing the genetic testing and the e-motion sickness I knew what would follow, and we lucked out again. Our family beat the odds. Whatever challenges we've faced since then, and some have been large, I know how fortunate we are. Those Thanksgiving tears keep reminding me.
Vicki Schultz lives with her husband and two young sons in West Henrietta, NY. She is a member of Rochester Area Children's Writers and Illustrators.
Genesee Valley Parent Magazine Copyright.
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