Bow to the master

Six months or so ago when I was still unemployed, I spent, who knows, in the range of an entire slave-labor workweek on a post that went nowhere. I then tried to refine it and refine it and it still sucked like an Electrolux. It was about twelve hundred thousand words, completely unreadable, humorless, dull and I hadn't even touched on a third of the points I intended to make.

But what, to my wondering eyes, should appear today?

This. Concise, complete and so funny that my compressed bladder wants to squirt for joy with every line.

Akeeyu, if you're reading, please know that you're my very own personal atheist deity.

Tuesday, then nine

Thank you to everyone for the supportive, reassuring comments. I went into the test half-expecting the results to be poor, what with my age and the two non-viable sacs, but that half-expectation didn't help me deal with the shock of it very well. However, your comments did. I have also known several women to get positive screen results and perfect amnios, resulting in perfectly healthy babies; I know that the odds are 63-to-1 in my favor. It just took me some time to get perspective.

We are set for Tuesday--genetic counselor, perinatal specialist, level-two ultrasound, amnio. By the end of the following week, we should have our answer.

Not good

The OB called after she got out of surgery. The risk that was flagged by the test is for Down's--1:63. The cutoff for "normal" is 1:190.

Perinatologist appointment Tuesday for a level-two ultrasound and, almost certainly, an amnio. With the AFP result being so far out of range, she said, an amnio would give me one of two things: peace of mind, or a definitive positive for a chromosomal abnormality and enough time to terminate safely, if that was our choice.

Abnormal

Came home late last night to a message from my OB. "Please call me as soon as you get this message so we can talk about how to proceed. The AFP test results came back abnormal and I'd like to talk to you right away."

She has not yet called back. We thought there might be an issue with high hCG because of the triplets-that-were, but by the tone of her voice, it sounds like this might be something unexpected, and worse. I am terrified.

Just when I was starting to believe that this might really, truly work. Just when I was starting to feel like things might be normal.

Thunkthunkthunk

Most beautiful sound I've ever heard. 145 BPM.

Babybeat arrived yesterday and I am in love. This is the greatest home appliance since TiVo. OK, it's even better than TiVo. And you know my deep and abiding love of TiVo.

Jeff and I listened for much longer than necessary, wearing down the batteries because we just couldn't get enough. I can't believe I waited this long to get one; it lifted a thick, dull, oppressive fog from my brain.

Thank you, lovely ladies, for your guidance on this. It was invaluable.

Still manically busy but hope to come up for air in the next couple of weeks. An actual, real post--one that I can spend more than seven minutes writing--should follow.

Now THAT's service

I ask; you answer. You say Babybeat; I rent Babybeat.

Have I told you lately that I love you?

It's 10:38 p.m. and I just got home from work

And this is early.

For the short-term future, I will be living at work or, on a very few precious days, in our basement-cum-office, which is spiced with the rich aroma of mysterious allergens.

The project we are working on has gotten out of control, the timeline grievously compressed. We are, essentially, frantic.

I am still feeling quite foul, but am clinging to the rumor that the nausea and exhaustion should let up soon--I'll be 15 weeks tomorrow, so it's about damned time. And I'm jonesing for my bi-weekly ultrasound, which is now quadra-weekly, if such a thing exists. There should be some sort of methadone for ultrasound junkies. Am considering a home doppler rental, if I can get the time to reserach one. Unless you women of insight have some tips for me, maybe?

I have been speed-reading Bloglines in hopes of keeping up, but I seem to get farther and farther behind each day. And it's killing me. Guess I need some blog-withdrawal methadone, too.

Grace

There is a quality to some women that fills me with a humble, admiring jealousy. In real life, I have only known a few--my grandmother, for one; a friend's wife; a former co-worker. I imagine the quality in others--Meryl Streep and Madeline Albright come to mind--but I could be making it up. I start out feeling a little shy and klutzy and unrefined around these women, but they always find a way to make me forget myself.

The quality is hard to pin down, but it encompasses several things I wish I had. Poise is certainly a component, as is a particular form of intelligent, gentle articulateness. The ability to empathize without comparing pain, to listen without self-interest and without contemplating a reply in advance. The skill to meet a stranger and make her feel comfortable, welcomed, liked. A sense of humor sparkling in the corner of an eye.

Jeff and I were lucky enough to spend Sunday morning with just such a woman and her equally wonderful husband: the stunning Anna H. and the delightful BHM.

And when a woman is as kind as she, it's impossible for the jealousy not to be trumped by a sort of friend-crush adoration.