Many of you already know that Leah and I recently received the results of a FISH test that used fluid from a recent amniocentesis. The procedure was on Thursday morning, and we got a call back from the clinic at 4:30 Friday afternoon.
About 32 hours. It was positively amazing how long that period was. All sweating a 1-in-39 chance. Every waking moment spent contemplating how your life is going to change when you get the news. And of course the reality is that your life changes anyway, regardless of the news, because trying so hard to see through the hazy immediate future to a life you’re not sure you can handle really puts the zap on your head.
The call yesterday brought good news. When I returned home from work, I danced in the living room with my two girls to rockabilly Christmas tunes, clasping Ava’s little hands in mine and swinging her around while she laughed. I could feel the tension that had built up on my heart like plaque since our genetic screening loosen and melt away with each spin across the rug. I felt happy and lucky and even a little invincible. But I also felt small, and petty, and weak at the awareness that I didn’t know what I’d do had the numbers turned against us. Maybe I’d only know in the moment. I simply gave thanks for Ava’s smiling face and her insistence that I dip her, over and over and over again.