On Monday, January 11, we had a nuchal and a panorama done. [possibly break this apart into a separate post]. We received the results of the nuchal right away. We had a one in 20,000 chance of having a baby with Downs.
The doctor was a jokester, he pointed to our results on the paper.
“You thought she was one in a million, right? Well, look at this!”
We wouldn’t have the results of the panorama for another 7-10 days. Then, on Monday, January 18
[insert pic of text from Carnegie]
Normal?? What the hell does that mean? I want odds! More importantly, WHAT AM I HAVING??
I called them immediately, shaking a bit.
“Wait. We’re going to find out if we’re having a boy or a girl now?”
Nurse Joan went through our results first. We had a one in 10,000 chance of having a baby with Downs.
“It’s the best results you can get but remember, this is not a diagnostic test. It’s solely a risk assessment.”
“Do have a sense of what percentage of people who have good nuchal and panorama results go on to have amnios?”
“I really couldn’t say. But I’m sure your OBGYN will have a recommendation or you could speak with a genetic counselor. Now… do you want to know the sex of the baby?'”
“It’s a girl.”
“It’s a girl.”
My husband grabbed my hand, I teared up a little. I thanked the nurse. I texted my sister and my best friend, who promised to buy baby stilettos.
My husband smiled.
“We’re having a girl.”
I thought it was going to be a boy. On what was I basing this? It’s a 50/50 chance. It almost seemed fitting for me, like God’s giving me a challenge. I don’t particularly like being a woman and I think guys have more fun. I was rooting for the baby to be a boy because while I don’t think life is easy for me, I think life is easier. I think the days of men-must-have-job-to-provide-for-family are over. Hell, the days of men asking women out are just about over. A guy can have sex with a woman without even talking to her, let alone getting her number, dialing her number, and speaking into a mouthpiece, asking what her plans might be for the weekend and oh, is she AVAILABLE?
Do I know the best place in Manhattan to get a first bra, a mani pedi, a haircut/color/style, laser hair removal (between my hubs and me, we should actually register for hair removal for her)? Of course. It took years of sucking as a woman for me to get to be as good at as I am now. I realize that there’s more to being a woman than being pretty but self-care, self-nurturing, is huge.
How do I tell my daughter that being a woman is great, fun, rewarding when I find it so awful so much of the time? My husband says that if I weren’t in stand-up, I’d have a different view. Between my day job and my night job, I’m constantly surrounded by men. And I love men but sitting at open mic after open mic hearing awful jokes:
“I had sex with a 42-year-old and she was scared she was pregnant and I was like ‘you can’t be pregnant. You’re dead down there.'”
That’s another thing – are people going to make assumptions based upon my age? My hubs and I got pregnant the way most people do – by fucking. No in vitro, no ovulation kits, no donor egg. My exboyfriend accidentally knocked up his 43-YEAR-OLD girlfriend.
I’m focusing on all of the wrong things. I know that.
After the conversation with Nurse Joan, we called my husband’s parents. They were on vacation in Hawaii and we put them on speakerphone. As predicted, they were beside themselves with joy.
“We’ll handle the nursery! Oh, we’re just so thrilled for you! And we are the BEST babysitters!”
Very sweet. Hopefully, we’ll eventually have a nursery but right now, and for the immediate future, we live in a one-bedroom apartment. We may never live in a house. A two-bedroom apartment is more likely.
A baby girl. We both love the name Olivia.