In the past two months, I have had two major ultra-sounds and three blood tests. The wonderful fruition of the poking and scanning arrived yesterday: I received the results of the Integrated Testing and Genetic Testing, and according to these results, my child (despite my 'advanced' age) is thank G-d healthy, with only a 1 in 12,000 chance of having a birth defect. The statistical average for my age is generally a scary 1 in 75.
Which means, no amnio for me, and it means that approximately half way through my pregnancy, I have only three major exams left.
When I spoke to my doctor about the results yesterday, I could not contain my joy, and afterwards burst out spontaneously in song, a heart-felt rendition of "Amazing Grace." The Universe and I are truly in a good place at the moment.
Of course, because I lost about eight kilo during the first trimester, I am not yet showing; and as of my last weigh-in at the gynecologist, my weight has been stable for the last two months. Who knew that pregnancy could provide the ultimate diet?! Yet, every morning I wake up and examine myself in the mirror, and think to myself, "Am I fat today?" It makes me laugh, women spend their whole life trying to look sexy and thin, and I want to have a belly.
On a sad note, the whole question of how to break the news to my ultra-conservative grandfather has become moot. He fell into a coma several weeks ago, and is being sustained on all sorts of life support machinery. Today would have been his 91rst birthday, happy birthday Zaide.
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