I feel a gloomy, self-pitying post coming on....

I just got off the phone with one of the hospitals I went to during this pregnancy--again. Seems we owe them several hundred bucks, and our account is overdue, and they're about to send us to collections, but wanted to give us one more opportunity to pay our bill before it reflects negatively on our credit. This is a bill I've been working on for months, getting pre-authorizations and appeal letters from doctors. Of course, the part I've been working on--the genetic testing (amnio)we received--is only one part of the whole bill. I guess I should feel happy that we no longer owe $3500 and are now down into the 3 digits instead, but I'm not one bit happy. I'm ticked off. The part that we still owe (besides our co-pay) is for the genetic counseling we received after the level 2 ultrasound, and before the amnio. It all happened so fast that day--we saw a couple of "soft markers" on the ultrasound, and were told that the only way to know for sure whether our baby had a chromosomal abnormality was to do the amnio. We said we'd like the amnio, and when should we come back for that? The doc told us she could do it right then, but that she was going to send in a genetic counselor to talk with us first, to prepare us for what we may discover. The counselor took a detailed family history of everything physically and emotionally and cognitively wrong with any of our family members (and I swear I could hear her thoughts as she wrote things down--"And you keep having more kids because....?" I bet that was a real puzzler for her, considering our family's... unique gene pool. And I felt compelled to explain to her that this baby was a little whoopsie surprise). And she left and we had the amnio. Well, the lady on the phone today told me that most insurances don't cover genetic counseling. My thought was, "Well, if that's pretty common knowledge, then wouldn't that have been a great tidbit of information to share with us before sending the genetic counselor in?" Stupid hospitals. Stupid insurances. So I pulled out the only tool I've got in my arsenal these days--tears. I actually didn't do it on purpose, but I broke down crying. Here I'd just spent almost 2 hours on the phone with our new hospital (where we'll deliver) and our insurance, trying to figure out what will be covered and what needs pre-authorization, and getting CPT codes from one to give to the other. Do you cover this hospital? What about this procedure? What about this one? And heart surgery? And a NICU stay? Do I need pre-auth for that? Oh, I need to call the hospital and get a CPT code first? OK, I'll call you right back.... I was feeling like I was being so on top of things and proactive and responsible, and just when I'd cleared all that up, I get the call from the other hospital about my delinquent bill. Aaaaand, I went right back to feeling like a clueless loser.

The reason this feels like such a big deal to me is that, really, this baby so far has been not a whole lot more to me but 5 months of constant puking, overlapped by 5 months of worrying about diagnoses and bad news and more bad news and doctor visits and tests and more doctor visits and then more bad news and pain everywhere and dealing with insurance companies and worrying some more about surgery and wires and isolettes and when and where do we start the clubfoot treatment if he's at this hospital for his heart surgery, instead of the other, free hospital where I had treatment set up, and oh yeah, he's breech and I may need a c-section (which isn't such a big deal, but come on--we've got so much other crap going on with this kid, couldn't we at least skip one surgical procedure?). And my mind always, ALWAYS flashes forward to what other issues will crop up because of the Down syndrome once he's here. Feeding, breathing, gross motor, fine motor, immune deficiencies, bowel problems, leukemia? In contrast, what have I worried about with my other babies? What colors to do their room in? How they'd fit in with the other kids? How overdue they'd be? And I know that this baby will be a huge blessing in some miraculous, beautiful way that I just don't understand right now, because lots of people have told me that it would be that way, and I trust them. But I don't get it yet. So far, he's just thumps and bumps in my belly and a blurry image on a screen and a heartbeat I get to hear at least twice a week and a diagnosis or two and several pending procedures. Oh, and looming, friggin' gigantic hospital and doctor bills.

The suckiest part of all this worrying (well, there are a couple suckiest parts) is that I'm so wrapped up in worrying about stuff I can't change that I obsess and research and forget how to enjoy great stuff around me. I have 2 sisters-in-law who are expecting babies a few months after my baby's due. That should be so fun and exciting, right? In fact, we were pregnant together when I was expecting Christian, and it was so fun. We took belly pictures together and stuff. But what do I do this time? I cry when I'm around them and they're talking about baby stuff. I picture their babies next to mine in a year or so, and their babies are doing all the stuff my baby can't do because of his delays. And my baby will be getting all kinds of awesome therapy from the 3 types of Early Intervention therapists who'll come to our house and work with him and teach me how to work with him. And he'll still be way behind, even with all of his hard work and their hard work and mine. And their babies will just learn that stuff, because they'll try it and they're at the right developmental age for it. And so I'm a horrible, horrible sister-in-law who can't be happy for her family members who are excited about adding to their own families. They're talking about accessories they're buying and stuff they're making and diapers they're stockpiling, and I haven't even bought a single thing or pulled out a single onesie from the storage bin, all because I've been so afraid since hearing those 2 words in the doctor's office--Down syndrome--and making the terribly ill-conceived decision to research stillbirth rates.

I don't like being stuck in this gloomy, self-pitying place. I want to be excited that there's a new little spirit joining our family who'll bring us joy I can't conceive of. And sometimes I actually am. I get glimpses of peace and comfort, but only when I allow myself to, when I shut off the worry roiling in my mind. I read stories of other parents who've started along this journey before me, and I think maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe it'll actually be really, really good. But before I can join them on this journey, I have to get past the scheduled external cephalic version (where the doc will attempt to physically force our baby to tuck and roll into the vertex--head-down--position in my pelvis). And then the scheduled induction if that works. And then maybe I'll get the chance to hold him and kiss him for a minute before he's whisked away for echocardiograms and tests and his own little isolette in the NICU. And I'll get to hold him and feed him and snuggle him in there sometimes before a surgeon cuts him open and cuts into his tiny little heart and stitches the broken parts back together. And I'll continue to worry for a while, because even though the surgeon will have done this procedure hundreds of times before on babies just as tiny and fragile as mine will be, it'll be the first time I will have handed over my own little infant to a team of gowned and masked surgical team members and trusted them to return him to me safe and alive, and I will have a hard time pushing the fear out of my brain that there are always risks involved in surgeries like his. And my friend Lexi promised me just the other day that somehow I'll be able to handle it, and even be strong through it. And the angels who will have accompanied this sweet baby to earth will attend to me while I wait for him to recover. Only the way she told me was so much more eloquent and lovely and believable. And I do believe her, because she's already been through the wringer with her own special little spirit who came to her in a body affected by Down syndrome.

But I'm not there yet. Right now, I'm stuck in this place of worry and wondering about things I can't see yet. And I know that there are people in this world who are worried about things much more serious and difficult than this, but I can't shut off the worry. I can count my blessings, which are so plentiful, but when I'm done counting, I always go back to the worry. Maybe because it's become familiar territory, and we as humans tend to stick with the familiar. I suppose it's a great thing that I only have a few more weeks of this worrying to do before I'm thrust into the reality of it all. I'd better start getting things ready for this little boy.... Maybe that'll make it feel more real, and I can start moving into the part where I feel peace and comfort. It's worth a shot, right?