The good, the bad, and the scary

OK. I realize that it has been a very long time since I've written anything. I'd like to say that things have gone without a hitch, but I'm finding out that the hysterics of parenthood start long before the munchkin makes his or her first appearance into the world.

First off, let's talk about the good. I have, for the most part, felt very good. I sailed through the "bad period" without so much as a thought of nausea. Other than an incident with food poisoning, and a weird indigestion thing, I have been able to keep everything going in its normal direction. My nose continues to be a completely different beast. Although, congestion has improved greatly since starting my new job (which has been going quite well, thank you), I still get bouts of stuffiness (like right at this particular minute - my nose has now become something of a barometer. We're getting more snow = complete nasal blockage).

So, that's good.

Now, the bad. I have found that I hate clothes shopping. With great intensity. If I could just wave a magic wand and have all of my pre-pregnancy clothes suddenly grow an elastic waste band, I would. I don't know what goes through the minds of maternity clothes manufacturers. They all (OK, maybe not all, but definitely those that are moderately priced) seem to think that as soon as you conceive, all sense of good taste goes right out the window. They must think that since you are pregnant, you will suddenly want to go from your usual low-key, understatedly elegant style, to the overwhelming urge to wear garish pastels and poofy sleeves. And don't get me started on actually trying everything on...

And unfortunately, I have to talk about the scary. I got the phone call that I never thought I'd get. I had my quad screen the day after Christmas. Didn't think much of it. Had my 16-week appointment - everything seemed great. Doctor was happy with the heart rate (160), and that I wasn't experiencing any cramping or bleeding. Then 3 days later, I get the call. The screening results were back - a 1 in 29 chance that my baby might have Downs. After hearing that word, it seemed as though my mind shut down and started racing at the same time. I've been through enough statistics classes to know that 1 in 29 is only pretty when you're playing the lottery, and even then, your chances aren't great. Needless to say, Jay and I were plunged into a state of fear and foreboding that we never expected. I spent the rest of the evening bursting into tears at random moments (thankfully my scrapbooking friends are extremely supportive and understanding, and I am deeply appreciative that Jay shoved me out the door to be with them). Jay spent much of the night on the internet trying to get as much information as he could to try to understand what was happening.

In a nutshell, we are very hopeful that we will be part of the 98% false-positive rate. Even with all the hopeful information we've received from internet reports in addition to all of the positive outcomes we learned of from people we know, we are still very much on edge.

So now, we just have to wait for the Level II ultrasound appointment on Tuesday. Two more days. We had come to a somewhat fabricated sense of normalcy between Monday and now - I say that because I know the situation is still at the forefront of both of our minds. But now that we have an appointment, the next two days will seem like an eternity.

Here's hoping that there really is power in positive thought.