I wanted to quickly update you on our combined test results from our NT scan. I know that you were on the edge of your seats…

Downs: 1 in 5,000
Trisomy 18: 1 in 10,000

We couldn’t be happier with these results. The good news keeps rolling in!

In a previous post, I blogged about how I’m “all in” with this baby and the first of such events are happening this weekend.

My parents are hosting an engagement party for my brother and his finance on Saturday. This is the first of many major life events this year, and I am so excited. Shelby’s belly is slowly growing (not to mention BOOOOBS!!!), and she’s beginning to actually look pregnant! It’s stunning.

We’ve been officially out of the closet this week, and it’s going to be awesome not having to explain why Shelby isn’t drinking. For the first time in our lives, we’ll be at a party where I can say:

“Why yes, we are pregnant, and couldn’t be happier!”

If this is a dream, I never want to wake up.

Please note that this post is about our pregnancy. Oh, and it’s really mushy too. Come back later in the week if you’re just not “feeling it” today.

By the way, to make reading my site a little easier, I’ve added “This post mentions” above most of my blog posts. Don’t forget to check that out before reading anything that you might find yourself not in the mood for.

Throughout the course of our marriage, I’ve found myself constantly learning what “love” means. Now, I find myself doing again. Today, May 5th, marks the day Shelby  and I first met. Our story isn’t that unusual. Boy meets girl. Boy finds girl REALLY cute. Boy wants to get in girls pants and so on and so forth.

Shelby and I met on a blind date while we were in high school. To fan the high school drama flames, we were set up by my ex-girlfriend’s best friend. She thought we’d hit it off and I agreed. Like most kids in high school, there was only one logical choice to meet: Starbucks. The plan was to be introduced over coffee accompanied by a comfortable buffer of mutual friends just in case there was no love connection. If things were looking good, Shelby and I were to spend some alone time at the second place high school kids go: Golf Land. Ahh, Golf Land; where arcade games, miniature golf and flirting are plentiful. Shelby and I hit it off, and the rest, well, the rest is history.

Over the 13 years that I have known Shelby, I have constantly re-evaluated what true love really is. Just when I think I’ve figured it out, I look at Shelby and realize that there is so much more room in my heart for love. I could easily go on for pages about how she is an amazing woman, or about how she can light up my world by just a simple glance in my direction, but this post isn’t about her. Well, it’s not about her directly…

On May 4th, Shelby and I find ourselves sitting in yet another doctors office as we wait to be called in for our NT scan. Honestly, we’re not worried about the scan, but since we’ve been collecting ultrasounds by the dozen, we figure it’s a great excuse to see the baby. Sitting in the uncomfortable office chair, I realize that I’m feeling an entirely new feeling at a doctors office. My silent, stomach turning  panic and fear has been replaced by something foreign. It takes me a while to place it. It’s… it’s… excitement. For the first time in 5 years, I am no longer afraid of a doctors appointment. I’m truly, 100% happy. 100% excited. For the first time ever, I’m looking forward to seeing our baby on the ultrasound and not being afraid. There’s no caveat. There’s no doubt. There’s just peace.

Our name is called, and we head into the ultrasound room. I’m greeting by a warm room and a huge flat screen TV waiting to show me our baby. Our scan was perfect (pending blood test results of course). It also marked the first ultrasound we’ve ever received that was using a doppler, and not the intimidating looking dildo cam. Well, intimidating to MOST men . As the NP presses on Shelby’s belly with the doppler, our beautiful baby is shown dancing on the screen. I’m amazed and awe-stuck. It no longer looks like a bean. There’s a baby! On the screen!

As I watch the flutter of the heart beat, stretching of arms, movement of legs, the doctor invited us to count fingers and toes. I never thought the count of 1.2.3.4.5 could be so amazing. I sit back in my chair, gaze over at the doppler on Shelby’s belly and a warm, peaceful, comfort washes over me. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I realize what it is; Love.

Love, redefined.

I’m staring at Shelby. I’m staring at her belly. I’m dumbfounded. Floored even. I feel so humbled by her and our baby. Here I sit, on the eve of knowing Shelby for 13 years, and I’m in love all over again. In an instant, my heart is broken down into the very core of my soul, only to be instantly rebuilt by this new and redefined love. I realize that not only do I have the room in my heart to fully and completely love Shelby, but I realize there is a new feeling there. It’s unconditional love at first sight. I fully and completely fall in love with this new creature on the screen. Love, for me, has been redefined again. I feel so full right now. So excited for the future. So in love with my wife and the little one inside of her.

Today, as I stare at a picture of our baby from the ultrasound, I realize that my understanding of love is truly changing.

I love Shelby.

I love this unborn baby.

I am slowly understanding this redefined love; By loving this baby, I’m falling in love Shelby all over again.

If there is one lesson I can teach our baby, it’s about true and complete love because it’s already teaching me what love really is.

Allow me the simple pleasure of sharing what love looks like;

As I laid awake last night anticipating our ultrasound today, my heart would not stop racing. I’m nervous. Nervous for myself, for Shelby and for our little one. I’ll cut the bullshit. I am downright, flat out scared and was reading into everything. I’m not a superstitious person, but I was looking for ANY sign. Either way, I just wanted to know how our appointment would turn out. The only signs I felt was my pounding heart beating from fear. Fear of loss, fear of being destroyed, fear for Shelby.

The only thing I could think about was when I imagined myself sitting down in front of a blinking cursor, ready to write a blog post telling you how our appointment went. The only thing I could actually visualize writing was news off loss, pain, and sadness. This freaked me out. I could FEEL my fingers type the painful words “It’s over. Fuck you fate!” I tried everything to block that vision from my mind, but I just couldn’t visualize anything else. My fear simply did not allow me to ever consider writing “Thank God, everything is perfect.”

Surely this was a bad omen?

As I mentioned in the past, we’re just going on 12 weeks of being pregnant. It’s a major milestone and it seemed like it would never get here. I felt every passing second that lead up to this appointment. We had about 3 weeks between ultrasounds and during this time, we hit our previous loss milestone.

I couldn’t comprehend waiting 21 days until our next appointment. That’s 504 hours, people! Eventually I found a trick to help pass the time; that was to simply view time differently. I made everything relative and it really helped pass the

There wasn’t a concept of weeks, days or hours. It became 2 more new episodes of Deadliest Catch until our ultrasound; 1 more episodes of new Family guy; 3 more breakfasts; and before I knew it, it was 1 more kiss goodnight until our appointment.

Finally, the day arrived, and as the hour of our ultrasound ticked closer, my perception of time was: 1 more kiss hello, 15 more foot steps to the ultrasound room, 1 Shelby laying down, 2 hands gripping each other in support, 10 pounding beats of my heart, 1 deep and final breath until we knew our fate.

All of this is the build up to the moment that I laid awake fearing. What will my blog post say? Was my omen of dread realized?

Time has passed, and is not longer relative. Finally, the moment I envisioned is here.

I’m staring at the blinking cursor of my blog post.

There’s only one thing to say:

Thank God, everything is absolutely perfect.

A few weeks ago, Shelby bolted upright from her near-permanent resting position on our sectional and to my surprise declared that she “WANTS INDIAN FOOD SO BAD.” This surprised me on 2 levels. The first, Shelby was actually able to dig herself out of the Shelby shaped indentation on the couch. The second, she actually wanted something that wasn’t a popsicle, cereal, or nacho cheese Doritos. We’re making progress here, people!

Immediately, I launch myself out of my seat, grab the car keys and race to the garage. Understand, my panic and speed are out of one very important reason, I love Indian food. I know that any change in speed, wind direction, or even a butterfly flapping its wings in Japan will change Shelby’s mind and she’ll fall back into her couch shaped indentation and make me get her the 100th popsicle of the day.

We’re out the door before she could even pick up her purse.

I hold my breath the entire way there praying she doesn’t change her mind, and finally we arrive. Shelby’s looking a little green at this point. Maybe it was my driving? Maybe it’s her sense of DOG LIKE SMELL. I’m beginning to sweat now. I don’t want my Indian food ripped from my hands when we’re SO close. Taste buds are already set to spicy, and they aren’t turning back.

We walk into the restaurant and I scream “Naan, and Chicken Vindaloo, STAT!” before the poor waiter even asks us “how many?” As the realization that we’re finally sitting down and that we are actually ordering food sinks in, I let myself calm down. Shelby and I make small talk and try and avoid the elephant in the middle of the room, or in her belly for that matter, but eventually our conversation drifts that direction. As our waiter pours my 10th glass of water, and Shelby’s 2nd lemonade (never mind the fact that I begged her not to order it. Lemonade and Indian food? Gross) we start to talk about family trees.

I come from a very small family. I may be a triplet, but that about covers it. My Dad has two brothers. One of which adopted a son, and conceived a daughter and the other decided to not have kids (ALS runs in the family and they didn’t want to tempt fate). We were born almost 3 months premature, weighed 2 pounds each. Our birth was less than perfect and the doctors predicted certain demise. We made it, however it was not scott free. One of my brothers was born with severe brain damage and will never experience many of the life events we all have the opportunity to enjoy. He’ll never date, marry, or try to conceive a child, nor does he have any concept of those things. The other, as I mentioned in a previous post, is about to get married and start a family.

As I break off a piece of Naan, Shelby and I take stock of my family tree with those that share my last name.

• My female cousin is basically a non-member of the family by choice (crazy lady with 10 cats and a few kids who, when explored adoption, got denied because she didn’t want to turn the “cat room” into a bedroom for the potential kid.)
• My male cousin, who was adopted, just had a daughter. Don’t know their long term family plans.
• My brother and his bride-to-be, well, your guess is as good as mine.

That’s it. That’s the family tree.

As we finish dinner, something that has never even occurred to me hit me like a ton of bricks. Is my family tree about to have a broken branch? Up to this moment, I had little preference on wanting a boy or girl. I just want baby, but does this change things? I’ve only just come to grips on my own infertility, and now I’m contemplating the end of my line.

Shelby and I wrap up dinner, and as I drive us and our full bellies home, I’m unsure how to process this.

Am I just placing unnecessary pressure on myself?

I’m just… unsure.

This is a new emotion for me to process, and I haven’t figured it out yet. Is it something I *really* care about? Is it society’s added pressure on us men? Does my line really end? Have I found the core reason of why we procreate?

How do I deal with these questions and where do I go to find those answers?

Have any of you thought about these things? What’s your take?

Shelby and I have struggled for years with infertility. Throughout those years, we always talked about how morning sickness was something that we couldn’t wait to experience. Okay, maybe that is overstated, but we wanted at least some symptom of pregnancy to make it ‘real’ for us. P.rogesterone, L.upron, C.lomid all had their own side-effects, but we desperately wanted a symptom of something other than constant medication. I would always tease Shelby that she better be careful what she wishes for. Wish for a baby, not morning sickness! Shelby would always disagree with me. “No, I really want to be praying to the porcelain god without actually being hung over!”

Our first pregnancy resulted in very few symptoms that Shelby chalked up to “just not being one of those morning sick types of chicks.” Her mom was never sick, so maybe she lucked out, right? Sadly, we never got much farther than 10 weeks (well, my gut tells me that growth stopped around 7) so we’ll never know if the symptoms just didn’t kick in, or it could be that ‘every pregnancy is different.’ I always teased her that when she does end up making a mad dash to the toilet, that I’m going to be there to take a picture and remind her that she got her wish. Every time she looked a little green, I’d run to our office and grab our camera and scream “don’t puke yet! I’m not ready!!!”

On a side note, as we near our 10 week mark, I find myself growing increasingly nervous. This pregnancy, everything has been perfect. Our little gummy’s heart beat has been a strong 180bpm, it’s measuring exactly to the day, and we’ve seen it move on screen, (I still freak out when I think about that) but until we pass our 10.5 week date, I’m not going to be able really start feeling better. We don’t know why our last little bean didn’t make it, and I’m truly scared that we’ll face this again.

At some point this week, Shelby and I thought that her symptoms were leveling off. Her food aversions, and morning (ok, all day) sickness seemed to be getting better. Part of me worries when that happens, I know things change day-to-day, but there are also scary stories about symptoms just disappearing and not coming back. Dr. Google and I have a love/hate relationship. However, Shelby’s morning sickness came back with a vengeance this weekend, and my camera was ready. On Sunday, Shelby bolted passed me and slammed our bathroom door. Suddenly, I was like a tiger, laying low in the grass while stalking my prey. For a few seconds, I felt like the crocodile hunter, ‘oy, look at this beaut. She is definitely with child and looking a little green. Watch as I move in closer for a better look.’ After a few moments in the bathroom, Shelby stumbles out and I finally capture my prey. Luckily for me, it was a little out of focus, otherwise Shelby would have never agreed to letting me post it. As sick as she is in this shot, she looks beautiful to me. I will cherish this picture forever as it is a long awaited milestone, of sorts.