"Would it be the letter that begins "Dear Imperialist Swine"?"

Thank you everyone for the comments on the past two posts. I’ve tried like 3 times to answer them, but I go into Gmail and stare blankly at them wondering where to begin and what to say. And plus a bunch of you don’t have email addresses connected with your comment avatars which I forget to check before I write responses and then I send it only to realize that “noreplyblogger” means you’re not going to get it and I’ve just written imaginary notes to my pretend friends AGAIN. You should connect email addresses, just saying. “Our cross dressing son” was in fact the sentence that Sealed the Deal for me, I knew all would be beautiful. We have our conflicts, but my lawd he’s good to me. We have News from the Ultra Sound Gods. Preliminary test results. Trisomy 13 and 18, both fatal, negative. Down Syndrome, negative. It’s a boy. I knew it was a boy, but it’s nice to have it confirmed. So. It could be his kidneys, but they couldn’t tell because ultra sounds are hard when there’s no fluid, or my water could have broken, or other things they haven’t told me. There are other tests being run, for much rarer chromosomal abnormalities, and I should have those results at least by our appointment on Tues. I also have an appointment with a cardiologist that same day to see if he has a defect. They asked for the patient’s birthday, I was all, uuuuhhhhh, in utero? I left the office with very little information on what to DO. I’m not sure why this was, but in all fairness I didn’t ask for any either, plus I was ugly crying the whole time. Of course I’ve googled the shit out of it and have come up with some interesting information. Most people are drinking a shit ton of water on bed rest or have IV’s in the hospital, and if it’s confirmed the water has broken antibiotics are generally thrown into the mix. A lot of left side lying down as well. I can’t be on bed rest without doctors’s orders, I have a 2 year old, hello, but I can do the water thing. A gallon doesn’t seem like all that much, you look at a gallon of milk and think, I can drink that in a day, turns out it’s a bit harder than I thought. After the 3rd day I felt like I was drowning, but luckily a friend suggested lemon in the water, and I’ve taken to orange bits too, these have saved me. It’s not that hard anymore; I just make sure I’m drinking at damn near all times. I pictured myself just sitting on the toilet all day, drinking water, and peeing it out. But it’s not that bad, I have to go often, but not as often as I worried. I got a brita filter bottle so I can fill it up wherever I go instead of bringing tons of bottles with me or buying them while I’m out. I figured I’d know it was working if he started kicking. I sometimes feel him in the morning, and usually at night, but that’s been about it. I was getting very discouraged, I’d been doing this since the day after my appointment and I didn’t notice any more movement than normal. But then yesterday he kicked a bit during lunch, and again after dinner when I was cuddling with G. Today at lunch as well, so I’m trying my best to be hopeful. J tried to talk about my feelings on the matter. Haha. I don’t think they’re particularly deep or hard to explain. They are as expected. Scared. Worried. Hopeful. I turned the tables and found out he has the added bonus of being worried about me. I didn’t even think of that. I just assume I’ll be fine; it’s the baby who’s in danger. Mostly, if we’re going to be honest, I spend my days doing my best not to think about it. My mantra is not a comfort to me any longer, so as soon as wicked thoughts come in my head I just try to push them out. Here’s hoping that after all this is over I don’t lose my shit. What I’d like from Tuesdays appointments; Diagnosis Battle plan on how to Save This Baby Hmmm, I guess that’ll about do it. Not too much to ask right? *cheers*