Friday, April 22, 2011

Things that make me want to vomit

Eating. Not eating. Smells (all). Dirty dishes. Noise. Rapid motion. Being hot. Being cold. Exertion. Lying on my back. Bright light. Wearing sunglasses. Television. Reading. Speaking loudly. Riding in an elevator. Riding in a car. Driving a car. Folic acid. Thyroid medicine. The warm, loving weight of a delightful small child sitting on my lap at bedtime.

Please, body. Please. Make it stop.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

And then it hit me

Yesterday, Jeff called me at work and told me that he'd just spoken to "the lady." The lady? Which lady?

Jeff: "The LADY! You know, the GENETICS lady!"

Me: "You mean the one who..." (We work in biotech, so I thought he meant this new client he's been working with.)

Jeff: "NO, you nutjob, the LADY from the PLACE!"

Me: "Place? Huh?"

Jeff: "The PLACE! The place where you had the PROCEDURE!"

Me: "Procedure?"

Jeff: "The giant needle tube thingy?"

Me: "Oh, gotcha! But we're not supposed to hear from her till the results are in next wee...oh!" (Suddenly terrified, despite Jeff's upbeat greeting.)

Me: "And...?"

Jeff: "And..."

Me: "AND?!"

Jeff: "Good chromosomes."

Me: "Really?"

Jeff: "Mmm hmm."

Me: "REALLY?!"

Jeff: "Yep."

Me: "SERIOUSLY?!"

Jeff: "Really. Seriously."

Me: "And..."

Jeff: "A boy. He's a boy."

Me: "A BOY! He's a BOY!"

And that's when the cold brick wall that had been blocking the light in my head came down and the laughter and delight billowed up from the rubble. Jeff laughed with me until I was verging on tears.

There is a tiny, beautiful, squirmy person growing in me. A boy. A boy who has a really good shot of making it. This is real. It's really happening. And I am in love, once again.

Friday, April 08, 2011

96% good

The CVS procedure--surprisingly painful but uncomplicated--was yesterday afternoon, and now we wait and worry and fret and wait some more. I ended up with persistent cramps and have remained on bedrest, but they're easing up and I am back to just feeling like my usual nauseated crap.

The genetic counselor took a thorough history, broke out charts, described the notification routine and left us with this comforting stat: The odds of any detectable genetic problem, even given my age and history, is only 4%. I can live with that--at least for the next seven to ten days, till the results are in.