My karyotype testing for a possible balanced translocation of genes, which would cause a genetic predisposition for any additional children I conceive to have down syndrome, came back negative. I am normal. Words not often used to describe me, but I have scientific proof that, as stated by the lab, that I have a “Normal Female Karyotype”.

As I suspected, John has a normal male karyotype. I was so convinced that I would have this mix up of my chromosomes that I never once questioned his being anything but normal. I still carry the guilt of not being able to conceive a child without medical assistance, so naturally I assumed this was my fault as well. Only it’s no one’s fault. What happened to Oliver was just something that happened.

I’m relieved, in a way, that the testing is over. I feel secure having answers. The unknown terrifies me. The thing is, now that I know, I’m not sure that I feel that much better.

Right now I live my life in minutes, which is a step up from before when I was focusing on making it from one moment to the next. A majority of minutes I’m fine and functional. Then there will always be that cluster of minutes where I just want to curl up on the couch and yell obscenities at the world. Hopefully I’ll be able to progress to living life by hours, and then days, and then weeks when losing him isn’t the first thought in my mind.

My OB suggested I wait a few more months before trying again because she wants to see my blood pressure under control. When the medical assistant asked if it was normally so elevated I told her it was only because I hated being in that office. I wonder what she thought of that reply. I wonder if people answer as honestly as I do at the doctors. Anywhere else my blood pressure is fairly normal, but in that office it spikes.

Honestly, I don’t think I’m ready to try again right now. Financing treatments aside, I just don’t feel like it is fair to Oliver that I try so quickly to replace him. I like to imagine, in some alternate universe, there is a version of me that is 21 (almost 22) weeks pregnant and happy with her lot in life.

The idea of creating another life while still grieving his is just too much for me right now.

2 thoughts on “Results

  1. I just wanted to let you know that I’m listening. I’m barely at the last stages of a miscarriage as well and learned how lonely it is. I just want you to know that there is a stranger out there in the world that is rooting for you to give birth to your “rainbow”.


  2. I have been here too. You are not alone! My post, Do I Look Healthy? (Around last June, I believe), writes about my GC appointment (after my 3rd miscarriage; before my 4th). It gets better. Hugs.


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