We were in and out of the perinatology clinic inside of two hours. In that time I learned a few things:
My stoic front is thin as paper.
Genetic counseling does not involve any counseling.
Genetic counseling does involve drawing useless, hangman-style pictograms.
I am older than I thought.
Teenagers are having babies on purpose.
My doctor filled out the AFP form wrong.
Recalculated, I might have screened negative.
They don't like to recalculate.
My bladder fills up with surprising speed.
Babies' hearts have four chambers, too, and you can see them all.
I am no longer blase about needles.
Amnio does, in fact, hurt.
Jeff's hand should not be squeezed with the force of burning pain.
The tapping/pulling/fluttering sensation in my lower abdomen is not gas.
It is also not a boy.
She has ten fingers.
She has ten toes.
She rubs her eyes.
She looks like a person.
A baby person.
I am in love.
I am terrified.