Written on 29th March… Following on from this post
So we pick up the limbo part 2 story on the Wednesday after I had the NIPD blood test… We had been waiting 9 days. To be totally honest my brain was in a pretty dark place. I wasn’t sleeping very well at all. I am very quick to temper and was just a grumpy monster most of the time. I felt so sure that we had pushed our luck trying to have another baby. I was angry at the world that we had to go through this additional stress (which is stupid, I know). I was worried at what my state of mind was doing to the baby etc. It was a lot of guilt and stress and stress and guilt…
I really really wanted the results to come back by the weekend. We were going out to see Panic! At the disco and I wanted to have a result either way so that it wasn’t hanging over us. I also thought that if we had the results back by the weekend then if it was bad news that I would be able to be booked in for a termination before the following weekend which was Dylan’s birthday party and his birthday on the Monday. Again, I know might sound callous or flippant but believe me I wasn’t callous or flippant about the prospect of an abortion. I was so utterly convinced that that what the outcome would be this time. I had researched both the medical and surgical options, extensively. I knew it would break me. I am very pro-choice but a termination is not something that I ever thought I would choose. But as I have explained many times, I couldn’t put Dylan through loving and losing a sibling again and I wouldn’t knowingly put Evan through it again and I know that me and Joe would be ruined by it.
What did I do with myself then? I kept busy. I tried to keep actively and out of the house. I tried to go out as much as possible so I wasn’t left to my own thoughts. On the Thursday some friends asked if I wanted to go to soft play with them and their littles and I thought yeah, why not. I came up with an utterly shite “lie” about my Dad possibly popping round at some point that day just in case I had the phone call from the genetics consultant at Liverpool Women’s Hospital. Weirdly I decided that we would walk to softplay… it is only a 10min walk from our house but Evan is only enthusiastic about walking for about 2mins and then he just stands in front of me crying until I carry him. He can be such a hoot at times *face palms*
Anyway we got to soft play… I unleashed the little dude and off he went. I chatted for a bit with my friends, purchased a beverage (it is slim pickings at this softplay for an incognito-preggo person, or any kind of preggo person). I must have been there 15 minutes at the most when I looked at my phone. Missed call. Fuck. Private number. Double fuck. They had left a message and yes it was Jeanette from Liverpool Women’s. FUCK. So I made my hurried and rather shit excuses. My friend offered her pushchair to me to drag Evan back home in which I accepted and it wasn’t until I was halfway home when I thought that I wouldn’t be returning if it was bad news but now I had to. FUCK.
I got back home in double quick time and called Jeanette back and her secretary told me that she was at training all day. I said well, she has just called me with some results and she put me through. Jeanette said she hadn’t had the email yet so she would call me back in about 5 minutes. Well 5 minutes turned into 10 and that turned into 15. When I received the results from the CVS I had been in bed (I felt utterly shite afterwards for about 3 days) so I figured my chances of good results would increase if repeated as many of the variables (does anyone else do this!?). Evan had other ideas and wanted me to play. I was getting a little frantic. I presumed she had had the email and was trying to think of how to break the bad news to me. Then she called. I was halfway up the stairs and holding Evan. I answered the call as I threw him (gently) into his room and ran back to get into bed (insanity). “Emma… it is good news” WHAT!!! She explained the results to me. They isolated the baby’s DNA and found the copy of SMN 1 that he/she had inherited from me. They were unable to confirm or deny if the baby was a carrier of SMA but baby didn’t have SMA.
Oh my god. I cannot explain that feeling. It was like a wave going over me, a weight of 1000 bricks being lifted, the relief made me feel light as air and it wasn’t until that I realised how much stress I had been carrying around with me. It felt amazing. I thanked her over and over and then called Joe. He was so relieved too. And then me and Evan returned to softplay for a chilled few hours with good friends, bad drinks and ok chips.
Thank you for reading