3 of the 21st chromosome

I have to admit my naïveté, blushingly bright though I may at times be, I tend to speak before I think about how what I am expressing will affect those around me. But this is not of the naïveté of that course. But of chromosomes, specifically, the 21st.

When I was pregnant, we found out days after seeing the obstetrician for the first time, that the little itty bitty life growing inside of my belly has three of the 21st chromosome. That means that our little nugget has Down syndrome. And that it is a boy. After the initial pain and anxiety and anguish of the diagnosis subsided, we got busy preparing for his arrival. A name. What to call this little boy inside my belly? I have had two sons, older, and had named both of them. Now it was my husband's turn to name a burgeoning life. His answer was quick, Alexander. Okay, little one is now Alexander. That being settled, it was time for a second name, in cultural tradition, a middle name. My husband admitted that this part he needed help with. I suggested the name of my father,  who had passed away a year and a half before, David. Okay, Alexander David he is! Then we got down to the business of Down syndrome. The facts and figures and statistics of what might be possible and the ways in which it might affect him were overwhelming. Hip displacement, double diapers? Oh, my! And the range of heart issues he might have were enough to draw tears. But, oh, my feisty boy decided that life in the watery womb was fun! Trying to get a sonogram became a game with him, let alone an echocardiogram of his heart. Those appointments went twice as long as scheduled. I once lay slack jawed, in the middle of a sonogram, as I watched him shove off from the right side uterine wall and float backwards, swimming, smiling and laughing, I would imagine, as he floated out of view.

Through all of the days of my sickness, migraines that would not stop, and new food allergies, this time gluten and dairy were added to the existing corn allergy, and remembering to Always Read the Labels! I was often ill, too sick to move much, until my third trimester, when it was required of me twice a week to go to the OB's office for non-stress tests, to make sure that little Alexander was still swimming. And to Children's in Denver for more echocardiograms of his itty bitty heart, more often than I ever wanted to go.

But the incident of which I titled my piece happened when I was at an appointment with my pain doctor. He first referenced Trisomy 14, then he corrected himself to say Trisomy 21, and that Trisomy 14 is something different. I guess, in all of the days of my life, it had never occurred to me that there would be three of any other of the chromosomes. I sat, dazed, as past, present and future fused into a single epiphanal spot, flashing brightly before my eyes, as I admit humility. That is all for now, I tire mentally and must cease my recollecting for present.