I have been overwhelmed this week by your emails and ecards (I know! Ecards!) and supportive comments. And here I am, just another pregnant woman waiting for amnio results. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this (and I’m not fishing for an answer to this either) but Nate and I are just so touched. So thank you a million times over. Your kindness has helped get me through this ass-sucking waiting period even more than the chocolate-covered pretzels from Fairway that I polished off this afternoon, and that’s saying something.
The one downside to it all: I’ve never felt quite so obligated to return here with a big dramatic, crowd-pleasing post.
And yet, I’m afraid I will disappoint.
We found out late this afternoon that the genetic testing results were excellent. This is no small mattter, I know. A woman of my (ahem) advanced maternal age does face scarier odds than our twenty-something counterparts. So in what world would one refrain from doing a happy dance over good amnio results? In the world where the damn toxo results have not been processed by the lab. And for some nutty reason, me calling my doctor’s office more frequently does not in fact speed up the testing process in California. Go figure.
I’ve lived with this for now going on three months. What’s a few more days? A few more chocolate pretzel inhaling days? A few more anxiety-provoking, fingernail biting, crossing fingers and making deals with the universe days?
Once again: ARGGHHHHHHH.
But on the bright side:
Yesterday Nate told me that he’d cancel a long awaited boy trip this weekend if the results hadn’t come in yet. I told him to do no such thing. He insisted. I insisted back.
He leaves tomorrow.
And I’m in love again.