We were not supposed to find out if you were a boy or a girl until January 4, but thanks (or maybe no thanks) to a blood test that was considered abnormal, we were given one of the best Christmas presents ever.
It started with a phone call from the doc Monday, December 21. I remember her saying that the latest round of blood tests showed an increased chance of Down Syndrome. She rattled off numbers and said they were still good for my age, but she wanted us to get more testing done right away. I knew I was too upset to remember the details for your dad when he got home, so the doc was kind enough to call him on his cell.
Tuesday, I spent the day spontaneously bursting into tears and cursing myself for waiting until I was so old that the chance of my child having Downs was increased simply because of my age. Now, I've had my fears about motherhood. Some of them I've not even said out loud to anyone, but this had me wondering if I could truly handle the helplessness of it. By the end of the day, I decided that the only thing scarier than not being able to stop bad things from happening to you was not getting to be your mother at all.
Wednesday, they called to schedule us for testing on Thursday, so Christmas Eve morning we were anxiously waiting in an office at St. Anne's to see you on the monitor again. The ultrasound technician checked all the possible indicators, including the number of bones in your pinkie fingers, the length of your arms and legs, and something about the bridge of your little nose. She said everything looked good.
Before she started the ultrasound, we asked her to write down your gender in a card I brought, and she was more than willing to play the game with us. She checked your parts while your Dad and I looked away. She said she printed a picture for us and put it in the card. Then she sealed the card and your picture in an envelope for us to enjoy later. She also printed this picture for us, and we couldn't believe it was such a good view of your perfect little face.
The doctor confirmed all the good news the tech told us, and we left the hospital feeling much better. To say it was a huge relief doesn't really touch it. But after all the worry, we had this exciting bit of news. Now, all we had to do was wait for the right moment to open the card.
That right moment was Christmas morning. Presents were opened, your dad had coffee, I had chai latte, the puppies had treats, and all that was left to do was open that card. I tried to peek first, but your dad was having none of that. I opened the card and we saw the picture she put in there first. I was busy looking at the arrow pointing at your parts, and your dad said, "We're having a little girl." in the softest, sweetest voice. I was just about to ask how he knew that when I saw the words, "It's a girl!" in the upper left corner of the picture. Sophia Louise. For the rest of the morning we took turns reminding each other that we were going to have a girl. It never got old.
Then your dad made his traditional Christmas morning omelets (which turned out to be scrambled eggs this year--sometimes the eggs don't cooperate). We ate breakfast and very impatiently waited for it to be late enough to start calling people to tell them the good news. We called both of your gramas, your aunt Nikki and uncle Paul, and your aunt Kandace and uncle Keith. Then we both spent time texting other friends and family. Such a good Christmas!!
