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As passionate as I am about... let me back up. As passionate as I was about writing once upon a time ago, one would think 'blog' would have been in my vocabulary long before now, ripe into my 20 somethings. Blah blah blah. No excuses; I'm here now.

My life has been one hell of a book. Quite possibly a best seller with the right publisher, marketing, and celebrity endorsements. If only I had started blogging many moons ago in my peak preteens. I imagine I would be marveling at the lake through dry timber from the balcony just outside the French doors of my living room while sipping hot tea under a thick blanket in a wooden rocker. Ah yes, my fantasy of wealth from a book simply about my life and how it changed who I am today. I find myself head high, speaking intellectually, in a slight English accent, as I read that back to myself. Though I am as country as you can make cornbread, my sense of humor expands beyond the acorn-filled woods that I find as homely as my own bed. And with that sense of humor comes realism. Who couldn't have a best seller about their life, if written just so? I mean, really. With that being said, I won't look back (too much). Though, I will reflect quite heavily on Lexi. After all, I did dedicate my blog to my life after having her in it.  

I will tell you all about Lexi... one day. However, that day is not today. 

Today, I have an ultrasound for the baby currently occupying Lexi's old home. The baby that must share this home with a deceased sibling that he will soon squash to something unrecognizable. I say 'he' when referencing this baby, because Josh and I both assume we have a rambunctious little boy on our hands. He is never still during ultrasounds or when I am trying to listen to his heartbeat at night on our Doppler. Oh yes, I assume I should address his deceased sibling that I brought up. I was pregnant with twins. 

Josh never flinched at the 6 week-ultrasound when she said, "We've got twins!!!" He grinned from ear to ear. I knew everything was going to be alright in that moment. Though, that feeling only lasted mere seconds as I noticed twin B was quite small compared to twin A. This very obvious fact was brought to our attention with the next very obvious fact that twin B may not survive as it was measuring 3 days behind and only had a faint heartbeat. My heart was crushed. Crushed like a fat kid falling face first onto his birthday cake.

Twin A measured right on track with a good heart rate at 117. The gestational sac seemed a little funny-shaped to me, though. The doctor never mentioned this, so what did I do? Why I googled it, of course! And those words are typically followed by, "What a mistake that was," when referring to us psycho preggers ladies. I do read legit things, though. Double blind studies, medical journals, etc. Everything I found said the gestational sac should be round or oblong with smooth edges.

Twin A on top with abnormal-shaped sac. Twin B in smaller sac on bottom.

I went on to read that abnormally shaped gestational sacs typically indicate a chromosomal abnormality and usually miscarry. So, I'm possibly going to lose both of these little miracles?! You've got to be kidding?! If it wasn't (cue exaggerative air quotations) "meant to be" then why in the hell were they given to me to begin with?! I mourned the loss of both of my babies over the next 2 weeks. Yeah, I had to wait 2 weeks for another ultrasound to assess the viability of my pregnancy. 

Two very long, agonizing weeks. 

I wanted to jump for joy at the 5 positive pregnancy tests that I took (and still have..) over a course of 4 days, but instead I was hanging my head low wearing an ugly, somber face.

Fast forward 2 weeks later... 

I was 8 weeks 2 days pregnant and just knew twin B's fate as I pondered twin A's. The first thing we saw was twin A in a big, round gestational sac with a HB of 179! Oh, I felt so relieved, so incredibly relieved. The tech then guided the wand toward twin B. There it was! Bigger, but still small. The gestational sac was less than half of the size of twin A's. Then she said it: "Twin B doesn't have a heartbeat." Josh and I knew the little guy wouldn't make it. We knew it, but I still felt the pain in the room between him and I like a dark ghost floating amongst us. 

But just then... "Wait, wait. Yup, there it is. Twin B has a heartbeat! But the baby is still measuring pretty small. Let me get some measurements" exclaimed the ultrasonographer. Really?! We both perked up instantly. Apparently Twin B was still being a trooper. The little guy had grown on track. He was measuring 4 days behind now, but had a HB of 153! Twin B took up the entire gestational sac, though. This was not a good sign, but doc didn't seem too concerned. Another 2 weeks before we could check on babies again. Sigh.

twin A

twin B

During that 2 weeks, I felt much more positive. I rooted for the underdog (as I typically do), and named Twin A 'Alfalfa' and Twin B 'Brussell Sprout.' Josh and I fathomed what twins would be like, how big I would get, what kind of nutrition I needed, you name it. We actually enjoyed (with our fair shares of worry, of course) the thought of having both babies. This 2 week wait went by much faster than before.

At 10 weeks 2 days pregnant, I find myself in a familiar office: my Perinatologist's (an MD specializing in Maternal Fetal Medicine for high risk pregnancies). They have all of the high tech machines and cool gadgets in their office. 

During the ultrasound, Alfalfa was kicking and flipping, putting his cute little hands over his face, you name it. The ultrasound tech laughed. She pointed out his cute little feet and toes and printed a picture of them for us.

She looked at all of his bones and especially his heart. It was beating at 160 bpm. He (assuming again, as it's still way too early to see any goods) looked perfect. Then we moved on to Brussell Sprout. I noticed immediately that she had a hard time even seeing B. B wasn't moving. And then it was confirmed: Brussell Sprout didn't have a heartbeat. The measurements showed B stopped growing at 8 weeks. Since lil Sprout had measured behind since 6 weeks, we assumed B may have passed away closer to 9 weeks-just days after our last ultrasound. 

Rest in peace, Brussell Sprout. Mommy and daddy know big sister is taking good care of you!

How did I feel? Sad, but overjoyed. I couldn't mourn for B yet. I had spent 2 weeks mourning for B between 6 and 8 weeks. Then came the 'new news.' The news that completely caught me off guard, and threw quite the pebble into my bicycle spokes that ultimately spun me out of control. 

After the ultrasound (in an upstairs office suite in the hospital), I went downstairs to see my OB. She seemed quite empathetic that we had lost Twin B. I was grateful for her empathy, but wanted to focus on Alfalfa at the moment. Then she said, "They found something called an echogenic intracardiac focus on the heart. It may be nothing, though." Apparently, its a common finding at 20 weeks on anatomy scans, but as more advanced ultrasounds are done earlier and earlier, the more these things are observed. She said it was considered a 'soft marker' for chromosomal disorders such as Down's Syndrome. 

The expression on my face must have looked like I had just been diagnosed with some rare, fatal disease. I was floored. I didn't even look at Josh. I just stared at doc in disbelief. A what on the heart?! What is this gibberish you speak of, my good doctor?! 

She described a simple blood test that was the latest and greatest with a 99% detection rate of chromosomal abnormalities. She left the choice to test for it up to me, though. Duh. Stick me.Take all of the blood you want. It would take two weeks to get results. Two weeks. Two weeks was becoming enemy terminology. If one more person said "2 weeks" about anything, I was going to go batshit crazy on someone!

Guess what I did when I got home? 

Google. 

I read for hours and hours about this spot that they had found on my baby's heart. I read medical journals and forums from former moms that were given the same news as Josh and I. Just as doc said: could be nothing this early, could be a soft marker. 

My OB promised that she would call that night after she spoke with my Perinatologist (they're pretty tight, which I love). I kept asking Josh questions. I was so delirious, I can't even remember what I kept asking him. Poor guy. I couldn't stop thinking that our baby had Down's Syndrome. 

At 8pm that night, I had given up that doc would call. As I laid in bed, the emotions finally caught up to me. I started to cry. Hard. I hate to cry. I feel weak and vulnerable when I cry. So, I got up and went across the house to where Lexi would be sleeping. 

We had turned the nursery that we had ready for her arrival into an office. I sat in the corner under a cherry tree vinyl on the wall where her crib used to be, and cried. I cried hard and loud. My sadness and fears poured down my face in a liquid form. I wept for this baby that would never know a normal life, and I knew I would feel guilty for eternity.

Suddenly, I heard my phone ringing. This late? Could it be..? Why yes, yes I think it is! My doctor calling!!!!! I heard the phone getting closer. Josh was bringing it to me. He answered and put her on speaker phone. She said the Perinatologist wasn't concerned this early. She said a whole bunch of other stuff, and I even asked some questions, but I don't remember any of the conversation any more. Which was fine by me. I was finally ok enough to get some rest. 

Over the next week and a half, I fell in love with Alfalfa a little more. I listened every night to his heartbeat on our Doppler. Josh had reminisced with me that the only time he had used the Doppler was the day we couldn't find Lexi's heartbeat. That happened to be one of the worst days of our lives. He said he wasn't sure if he would ever touch the Doppler again. But that night, I handed him the Doppler. And he didn't even resist my efforts. He smiled and anxiously put the probe over the gel on my lower belly. He moved it around for what seemed like an entire football quarter. I smiled. I didn't instruct him on what to do or where to look. I wanted him to find it completely solo and feel confident that he never jinxed our baby girl. 

Finally, he found his stubborn, little babe. And the heart was beating so fast; 160+ beats per minute! Perfection. 

Somewhere between that phone call from doc and now, I decided that if our baby has Down's Syndrome, that I am going to love him (or her) just as I did Lexi. Now, this wasn't a conscious decision. It was made for me. I would love this baby no matter what, and that was set in my destiny before I ever knew this life. But I figured I would go a step further in my imagination of this child being disabled and commit to involve him or her in every supportive activity possible, support other moms going through this, and never enable my child to do things. I would not make life 'easy' for my child just because of a disability. I will love this baby, nourish it, hold it, comfort it, but I will NOT enable it. I want my child to become the adult that doesn't see his/her disabilities as disabilities, but as gifts to see the world in a different light. For that is life, and that is how we learn to thrive and survive. I will be a bedtime story reader, cuddler like no other, play time hero, bath time bubble maker, soft-hearted, loving, mother. I promise that. It's in my heart already; I just need my baby in my arms to prove it.