Faith Marie Garcia...born on October 7th, 2006...and is my reminder that nothing in life is for certain and not everything goes the way YOU want it to...it's all up to the big guy upstairs.
January 2006, one week before my 28th birthday, Johnny and I found out we were having another baby. I wasn't "late", but I knew. A woman knows her body, and when something isn't right, then SOMETHING ISN'T RIGHT. I took a home pregnancy test only to discover a very faint pair of pink lines...yes, a pair...and those of you who have taken one of these knows what those two pink lines mean. I went to the doctor and he verified what I already knew in my heart. I was early, like 2-3 weeks along early, if that, but three days later I would miscarry. Had I not gone with my gut instinct, I never would've tested, I never would've gone to the doctor, and I never would've known; it would've just passed as my normal cycle, BUT, I did test, I did go to the doctor and I did know. When I went back to the doctor to confirm that I was no longer pregnant, he reminded me of several things...that I had one healthy baby already, that I didn't have to go through the physical pain some women do when they miscarry, and more importantly, he reminded me I was fertile. If I was really trying to get pregnant, he suggested that I get right back to working on that, because now was the time. So we did.
February 2006 we found out we were pregnant again, and this time there was no mistaking the dark pink lines that stared up at me from my 2nd little, white pee stick. :) This pregnancy was different from my first one. I "showed" faster, I ate more and I was bigger. I carried lower and the back pain was something fierce. During my fourth month, my doctor sent me for my triple screen...to test for birth defects, down syndrome and abnormalities that may already be detectable in the baby. I had done this same test before with Mary Frances, so I didn't sweat it. I probably should've.
I remember being at work, at Dr. Sertich's office, and it was a Tuesday. We didn't see patients on Tuesdays because he was in the O.R. those days, so it was time for us to get caught up on paper work, new patient packets and anything else he left for us to do. A call came in for me and one of the girls came to get me and said my doctor's office was on the line. They didn't call me with my results the first time around, with Mary Frances, they said if everything was normal and ok, then they wouldn't call -but they WOULD call if something came back abnormal or positive. My feet became like lead and it felt like an eternity before I got to the phone in the break room. It was my doctor's nurse, she was calling to let me know that my triple screen came back positive for down syndrome and that the doctor wanted me to see a fertility specialist on Thursday. After a few "uh huh's" and "ok's", I hung up. I stood there, not really sure what had just happened, and trying to figure out what to do next. Liz came in and asked if everything was alright, but after one look at my face she knew something was wrong; we had worked together long enough to know each other's faces. The next few hours are a blur...I called Johnny, my mom and my sister. Johnny didn't know what to say, he was quiet and asked the who, what, where and when for the fertility specialist. My mother and my sister assured me that everything would be ok, and that I shouldn't get worked up until I knew something.
Right. Stay calm. Don't get worked up. That's like telling water not to be wet.
I cried most of the afternoon and evening. Did I do something wrong? Did I get pregnant too soon after the miscarriage? Did I lift something too heavy? So many questions ran through my mind. I was scared, angry and feeling tortured...I'd have to wait 48 hours to see the doctor. Could I keep it together that long? Johnny and I talked more in the next 48 hours then we had in the last 48 days. The nurse at the fertility office had asked me to bring in a few things and to prepare myself for a full exam, sonogram and all. She also told me to come prepared with an answer to the question of whether or not I wanted an amniocentesis. A what? I had never heard of it. I asked my mother what it was and very bluntly she told me the doctor wanted to puncture a hole into my uterus and see if the baby had down syndrome. She also said, "You're not gonna have one, so tell them no when the doctor asks." Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize this was YOUR body and YOUR baby. She tried to justify her point, but I wouldn't hear it. Instead, I got online and looked it up for myself...
"Amniocentesis is a prenatal test that allows your doctor to gather information about your baby's health from a sample of your amniotic fluid, the fluid that surrounds your baby in the uterus. The most common reason to have an "amnio" is to determine whether a baby has certian genetic disorders or a chromosomal abnormality, such as down syndrome...it is usually done when a woman is between 15 and 20 weeks pregnant...women who choose to have this test are primarily those at increased risk for genetic and chromosomal problems, in part because the test is invasive and carries a small risk of miscarriage."
I cried again. And again. I realized what my mother was trying to tell me. Why have an amnio, if all it's gonna do is confirm that the baby had down syndrome? I wasn't going to have an abortion, that wouldn't be an option for me. All an amnio would do was create a bitter feeling in my heart and something that the baby would sense and feel. It was better to not know. To let God decide. And so Johnny and I did just that. Thursday came and went. We opted to NOT have the amnio. The doctor did a direct sonogram and we got to see the baby's heart chambers, spinal cord and vital organs on a 40 inch flat screen. We left with some amazing pictures and assurance from the doctor that things would be ok. Johnny and I didn't have time to talk alone until Friday night. We cried together and really talked things out. The conversation shifted and soon we were talking about names, something to take our mind off the stress. Johnny said he had thought of one, but wasn' t sure if I'd like it. He reverted back to our conversation we had prior to the visit with the fertility specialist and our debate over the amnio. He said, "We need to go on faith that we're supposed to be the parents to this baby, and faith that this baby was meant to be ours...so let's name her Faith." Just when I thought I couldn't cry anymore...I cried again.
Faith Marie was born at 7:50am, at 7 lbs 8 ounces and 19 1/2 inches long. She had ten toes, ten fingers, and all the perfections of a newborn. She was healthy and beautiful...and still is. She was my blessing...my miracle...and my test of faith. She's Johnny's "little darkie" and my precious girl. I learned what it meant to love equally, but differently. I learned to never take things for granted, to love unconditionally and to love with all my heart every day of my life. Faith was never going to be born with down syndrome, she was going to be born perfectly healthy. God knew exactly what he was doing. Why we continue to question Him is beyond me.
I will question his sense of humor though, because really, another girl? (sigh) I guess only He knows what He has in store for us, but whatever it is I'm ready. So bring it on.
Till next time...
No comments:
Post a Comment