The day after my blood draw, I got my period. A couple of days later, the RE's office called. They said that my progesterone was so low that I hadn't ovulated and would need medication to bring on a period. Hmm. I think I beat them to that.
About two weeks later, I got a frantic call from the RE's staff. I had tested positive for the genetic disorder: I'm a carrier. It's a recessive trait, so Mr. X needed to come in, rightnow-rightnow-rightnow to be tested. And I should tell my siblings immediately. And put up a billboard while I'm at it . . .
We weren't too freaked out. I told my family, who also weren't too freaked out. And Mr. X moseyed on in to get tested. We figured it would be good to know if this was a possibility, because early diagnosis can make a big difference in life expectancy, and we'd like to do some practical things to ensure the best care possible if there were a chance that we could have a baby with this disorder. But, hey, not to in any way minimize the situation, but really--this is just one known possibility. Who knows what challenges will come with any child, whether the child is born with a special need, develops one later, or just comes with his or her own unique issues.
Mr. X's test results were supposed to come back in another two weeks. So we waited. And waited. Finally, I called the RE's office.
Oh, hadn't they called us? No? His results were negative.
Good thing we were fairly laid-back about the whole thing . . .
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