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After the initial excitement and joy of learning of our pregnancy, we
found our way to the obstetrician's office for our first consultation.
Doctor's I have discovered love to deal in terms of risks and
statistics and we were given lots of statistics based on the "mother's
age". The one that sticks in my mind is the chance of having a baby
with Down's Syndrome if the mother is over 35. The figure given to us
was 1 chance in 187. It's a sobering thing, facing the possibility that
our unborn baby may not be all he or she could be.
Just as I was coming to terms with that risk factor our obstetrician
began to run through the gamut of tests on offer, calmly outlining each
one, and, thankfully, putting no pressure on us for my wife to undergo
any of them.
The first is a Nuchal Translucency Scan. They look at part of the
baby's neck using ultra sound and measure its thickness. The results
determine the risk of abnormalities. The thicker it is the higher the
risk. But, and they stress this, the test is by no means conclusive.
They pair this scan with a blood test called the AFP or triple test.
This looks for levels of chemical's in the mother's blood:
alphafetoprotein (AFP), oestriol, and human chorionic gonadotrophin
(HCG). I found it interesting that this blood test had only been
available in Queensland for two or three weeks before our consultation!
All of this gets fed into a computer, munched and an updated risk
assessment belches out the other end. When we eventually had the scan
done at 14 weeks, our risk factor went from 1 in 187 to 1 in 1850. The
relief I felt upon hearing the updated figures was enormous. We had
been keyed up expecting the possibility of an Invasive Test.
The first of these is an Amniocentesis where they pass a needle into
the womb and take a sample of amniotic fluid. There is a 1 in 200 risk
of miscarriage. Even more frightening is the Chorionic Villus Sampling
where they take samples of the placenta. The risk of miscarriage is 1
in 100!
My mind was stormy with the risks, possibilities and terminology. If we
had a 1 in 1850 chance of having a baby with a problem, I asked myself,
why would we risk a procedure that had a 1 in 200 or 1 in 100 chance of
losing the baby? It didn't make sense. The math didn't work.
"So," the doctor asked, leaning back in his chair. "Based on those figures do you want me to stick a needle into you?"
As one my wife and I said : "No!"
He smiled, "I didn't think so."
This experience introduced me to the concept of parental worry and
those friends and colleagues around me quite happily informed me that
it never goes away. One way or another, you are constantly worrying
about your child. Thank's guys, I really appreciate that. On the
surface I could laugh about it, underneath I knew it was true and
something I had better get used to.
Worry. The Fear Factor. It pounced on us around 16 weeks. Everything we
had read indicated that my wife should be feeling the baby moving. She
hadn't. First question: "Is there something wrong." A slide show of
horrible scenarios followed.
We began counting the days until the 20 week ultra sound. We'd know then if all was well.
The 20 week ultra sound has come and gone. We were nervous and excited
about seeing our baby again, hearing his or her heart beating, seeing
hands and feet and face. But the lingering question, what would we do
if we found out that something was wrong? The fear factor.
We realised we were beginning to feel what every parent feels, not just
prior to the birth, but after the birth as well: Concern for the child.
Instinct I guess you'd call it. The need to protect. Already I have
developed an awareness of things around the house that might pose a
threat to a little person, sharp edges, chemicals, tools.
Which lead me to start thinking about cots and change tables and other
nursery paraphernalia. Will little fingers find their way into gaps and
get crushed? A myriad ways a little person can find their way into
harm.
The sonographer squeezed goop onto my wife's tummy, and started moving
the ultrasound scanner around, and there was our child, with perfect
hands and feet, heart beating as it should, with no signs of
abnormalities in the valve walls. The we looked at the kidneys and the
renal arteries and moved on to the blood flow through the umbilical
cord. We learned that our baby has two umbilical veins, that one is
good, but two is better.
The head was measured, and the length of the arms and legs. They looked
to see how the spine had developed. Everything was as it should be. And
the fear ebbed away.
We're at 30 weeks now. Everything is going just fine. I still haven't
started work on the nursery. Taking books off shelves is one of my jobs
real soon.
The lawn mower has the sulks, the garden has sprouted an army of weeds
after the last rain, the car needs a service and a new battery. Life's
rhythms remain, with one very big consideration.
"Dad, can I have the keys to the car ..." I'm waiting for the day. It
won't be long coming I'm sure. I'm going to enjoy every day between now
and then.
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