I woke up at 4:00am. I’ve generally been sleeping through the night without the aid of doctor-approved Benadryl for a while. But as the final days of potential amnio count down, I find myself very nervous indeed.
At our meeting with the genetic counselor earlier in the month, she presented us with our absolute worst case scenarios. If we do get an amnio, there is a one in 500 chance something could go wrong and I could get miscarry. If we don’t get one, there’s still a one in 20,000 chance that our little girl could have Downs or something else. The risks are low in both cases.
“Your gut is generally right,” my dad said.
One thing about my dad: he gives excellent advice. I would reckon a lot of 77-year-olds do.
The decision I keep returning to is not to get an amnio. God forbid I’m the one in 500 who miscarries. I’m 39 years , 5 ish months old (reminds me of a little kid: “I’m six and a HALF!”). We were lucky enough to get pregnant twice in six months. What are the odds we could conceive and get to this point again? And, if we do get to this point again, what if that baby has an issue?
I woke up hungry. Spoonful of peanut butter and return to bed ought to do it.