Two's Company...

...and, in some cases, three's a crowd

On February 23rd I mentioned that I had been away for a bit dealing with a handful of little tragedies.

Which I was.

Don't believe me? Go check for yourself in my February archive! I could just post the link but I'd rather offer a musical interlude while you do the legwork.

INTERLUDE: "Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery; none but ourselves can free our minds. Have no fear for atomic energy,'cause none of them can stop the time. How long shall they kill our prophets, while we stand aside and look? Ooh! Some say it's just a part of it: we've got to fulfill da book."

Love that song. Ooh!

Ok, moving on...

If you did your homework, which I know you did, I'm sure you noticed I also mentioned it was too soon for me to discuss said tragedies at that time. Well, that time has passed, so allow me to "make good" on my promise to delve into those tragedies. I'm a man of my word.

Let's delve.

Back in February my girlfriend was pregnant. We were less than a week from finding out the sex when we got the news: blood test results were "concerning."

[SIDE NOTE: START]

I've never really subscribed to "self-fulfilling prophecies" but I had a serious pit in my stomach when I got the call about those test results. I couldn't help thinking it was my fault.

Why you ask? Valid question, dear readers. Valid indeed. The answer is simple and somewhat embarrassing: I initially didn't want to keep the baby.

That's right, I said it.

When my girlfriend called with the news that she was pregnant I initially wanted her to "take care of it." You know, go get a shmashmortion at the shashmortion clinic.

I felt the unplanned pregnancy was a practical impossibility. The girlfriend and I were separated by over 2000 miles. I had just moved back to RI from CO to find a new job and gear up to go back to school for my MBA. She was preparing for her last semester of college in CO, living alone, working and taking care of the pooch, Umi. Our plates were full and adding a baby to the mix didn't make much sense to me.

Guilty conscience personified.

After a few days of thinking about it my girlfriend decided she wanted to keep the baby. I struggled with that news, dear readers. Really struggled. I was scared. Scared shitless, actually.

I was scared I wouldn't be a good father.

But my fear was about me. And, as an expecting father, I had to understand something: my life wasn't about me anymore. It was about my future child.

The next time I'm blessed with the potential of new life into my world I will cherish it from the beginning.

Lesson learned.

[SIDE NOTE: END]

I did a shit ton of research after the call.

The medical term is Trisomy 18.

The irregularity, which occurs at conception, is when a baby has three #18 chromosomes instead of the normal two. The developmental issues caused by Trisomy 18, also called Edwards Syndrome, are associated with medical complications that are typically life-threatening in the early months and years of life.

I don't want this blog to turn into a medical text book. So let's just take a quick look at the numbers to get a feel for how serious this genetic disorder is. Because as we all know, dear readers, numbers never lie:

-- Over 95% of babies with Trisomy 18 die in utero
-- Trisomy 18 occurs in 1 out of every 3000 conceptions
-- Trisomy 18 occurs in 1 out of every 6000 live births
-- 50% of babies carried to term will be stillborn
-- 50% of live births with die within the first 2 months of life
-- Only 5% of children with Trisomy 18 reach their 1st Birthday

Basically, the baby's vital organs don't develop properly so their chance for survival is extremely low. And, of those that do survive, most will die within the first year of their life.

Fun stuff, huh?

To boot, nearly all the research concluded with a similar sentiment: "It is important to know that parents have done nothing before or during pregnancy to cause this disorder in their child."

Lies. Absolute lies.

The disorder, by definition, is caused by one of the parents having an extra chromosome in their sperm or egg. Thanks for the pep talk and all, research, but your kind words don't assuage the guilt that accompanies genetic incompatibility...

I'm losing my train of thought, dear readers. Hmm...

I answer all of your questions and I think I'm going to pose one of my own. Class participation points galore!

Is it silly that I still "talk" to the baby? Not nonsensical "Get in my belly" kind of stuff. More like...

[BABY TALK: START]

The doctors said your heart was strong and that's the reason the diagnosis came so late. I'd like to take credit for that but I can't. Your stubbornness in hiding your condition and hoping no one noticed definitely came from me. But your strong heart? It must have come from your mother. Daddy has never been strong in the "heart" department.

Bench press? Sure. Heart? Not so much.

Today was your projected arrival date. 7/2/09. Funny how a date that had no previous significance in my life is now the most important.

I'm guessing you knew that already, though. Actually, what am I saying? Of COURSE you knew that! Any child of mine is going to be know-it-all like me, right?

Duh.

Despite your omnipotence, though, remember one thing: you weren't a failure, baby. You were simply a missed opportunity. And what's the greatest thing about opportunity?

Exactly.

Listen, I have no idea how this whole thing works. I don't know if your soul is floating around waiting for a different vessel or if it was a one shot deal. I just don't know. Shit, for all I know, you were specifically meant to be my child and you're simply waiting "on deck" until the next time my boys go for a swim and one of them reaches their goal.

Anything is possible.

Regardless of your whereabouts, baby, I hope you're at peace and I hope I get the chance to meet you again. If I do get that chance please do me a favor: Stick around long enough for me to steal a hug from you, ok? And maybe, just maybe, a little kiss.

Come to think of it, I'll get both from you whether you like it or not using my mad ninja skills.

My kung fu grip comes in handy.

[BABY TALK: END]

Actually, class, you know what? You can all put your hands down. Don't worry, don't worry: I'll still award class participation points for the effort.

But I think I just answered my own question.