I have been reading.

It is no wonder, really. I have an ultrasound Tomorrow. You know, the big one. The high clarity, performed by a physician so if there is something wrong he is already in the room to tell you the bad news ultrasound. I guess you can say that they don’t waste any time or resources at the neonate clinic.

I have been reading about families who received adverse diagnoses for their baby while they were still pregnant. They received diagnoses that left a door open for them to abort their child. They received diagnoses that, in the medical professions’ view, lessened that baby’s right to life and lessened the mother’s ability to protect that life and the dignity owed to it.

Many, many of these babies died. Almost all of these babies lived, after birth, for a certain amount of time. Some of these babies were surprises, and did not have the condition their parents were told the baby had.

All of these parents were offered abortions and all of them chose to give their baby life, no matter the length of that life.

I realize this is heavy, tearful reading for an expectant mother who in a matter of hours (albeit at this point around 26 hours) will be having her own diagnostic ultrasound. However, this reading has not left my stomach in a knot. I am not afraid of what we will find tomorrow. I am not anxious for a “loss.”

I have two children, both beautiful, both healthy, who both at some point received a diagnosis which caused me to grieve. I did not want these diagnoses, and I never imagined my life with them.

However, their diagnoses in no way diminishes their role in my life and their place in my heart.

I tell my children that we are having a baby, but they will both always be my babies. No matter their age, no matter their temperament, they will always be my babies, attached to me by a virtual cord that is not even severable by death.
It would be foolish to think, even for a moment, that their position as my babies could ever be diminished or changed by a diagnosis.

It is no different for this child, the child I carry inside of me.

I have routinely refused all genetic testing and profiling thus far in this pregnancy. In fact, while maintaining contact and communication with my endocrinologist, I have really tried to just stay out of the doctor’s office this pregnancy as much as possible. I am enjoying my baby and the time that only the two of us share. I am trusting in the natural progression of pregnancy, and I am not afraid.

So why this ultrasound? Why this ultrasound if I don’t want to know?

We want to know the baby’s sex. We want to know if we are pink or blue and we want to foolishly buy into flagrant baby color schemes! Ultimately, I also plan to spend the majority of my labor at home, alone, with my husband. I will not do this, however, if this ultrasound shows that there are concerns with the baby.

I wait, excited to know which side of the gender fence this baby will land on.

And yet, I don’t wait. Because although I want to know the results of the he/she equation, there isn’t much else I really want to know.

(Edit: If you would like to read the stories I have been reading (I have now read them all!) go here: http://www.benotafraid.net/)