“And here’s the heart. Everything looks good!” our perinatalogist tells us. The super-duper #GoldenUltrasound most people schedule around 20 weeks or so finally happened. At 29 weeks gestational age. Don’t worry. Cutie #3 doesn’t look a day over 31 weeks. That’s right! We are having a Schultenover! Or perhaps an England. I don’t remember which side of our family has ginormous babies, but as a hefty 11 pounder myself, I am likely completing the karmic cycle by birthing a six month old. No, he’s not 45 lbs, as I predicted, but he is likely pushing 4 lbs this week. And if BabyCenter.com is right, he’ll triple in weight by his due date. Fantastic. The gorgeous newborn sized onesies so generously given to us by our dear Club 21 friends last week will keep their tags on until #CutieBigBoy makes his presence known. Then, we will re-evaluate.
So far, we are considering selling naming rights on this one. The potential names list grows, but not in a reasonable way. Cutie #1 continues to insist on names which don’t sound like names to us:
Maui (we aren’t Hawaiian)
Bottom (?? There are no words)
Kai (which we like, but is apparently the bad guy in Kung Fu Panda)
Basically, all the names Cutie #1 come from a moment of animated bliss which we simply don’t understand. We are clearly fuddy-duddies.
So, here’s a glimpse of #CutieBigBoy. If you have a suggestion for a name, we’ll add it to the list. If your suggestion is “Dorsel Fin”, worry not!! That is already on the #alternativelist.
Back to the heart, though. I don’t often make my posts Down syndrome related, but today, I have to make an exception. After Dr. Peri let us know about #CutieBigBoy’s fantastic heart, kidneys and liver, I looked at Cutie #2 and said, “His heart is like yours was on your echo.” Dr Peri stopped frozen, apparently had noticed the extra chromosome in the room, and said, “Why did she have an echo?” I, having an amazing sense of combined humor and horror on my face said slowly, “because she has Down syndrome…” letting my voice trail off. Dr. Peri looked at her, intently, and said, “Just routine, right?” Prince Charming and I exchanged glances, and really wanted to slap each others’ foreheads, but we refrained.
“Her heart was fine. Nothing exciting.” I replied.
Later, after the scans were complete, Dr. Peri was saying goodbyes, then for some unknown reason, he found it necessary and somehow appropriate to say, “She has a mild case. You must know I’ve seen lots of cases. She is mild.” That is a WTF moment.
People on Planet Earth:
There is no “mild” Down syndrome. There are three flavors: non-disjunction, mosaicism, and translocation. Period. As far as we know, and from what her basic karyotype revealed, our cutie has non-disjunction, which is complete. Every cell in her body has three copies of #lucky21. She may deal with her arrangement with grace and pizzazz, but that’s her, not her diagnosis. Please do not try to tell me that mosaicism is somehow a “mild” form. Comments like this do much more damage than good. They divide our community, and I will not participate in such shenanigans.
You cannot see the impact #lucky21 will have on a baby. Surgery may be necessary; it may not. Holes in a heart may begin to close before birth; they may not. The “Double-Bubble” (medically known as duodenal atresia) may exist; it may not. Your son may win an Emmy for his role on #BornThisWay; he may not. None of these things indicate the love, personal growth, and learning that you may (or may not) experience as a parent.
For the record, Cutie #2 has stubbornness and determination in triplicate. I assume these traits only reside on the 21st chromosome. (Tongue firmly in cheek so I don’t have to bite it to keep from laughing out loud in Dr. Peri’s office.)
*For the record, we did not laugh at Dr. Peri. We waited until we got to the car and let loose there.