Happy May Day...a little late

I had my ultrasound Friday morning. Due to my advanced maternal age (sigh), I got to go to the specialist ultrasound place – essentially this means that you get to pee before you get your ultrasound performed, as opposed to the radiology labs, where they make you lie there with distended belly and even more distended bladder, because apparently the ultrasound images are clearer if a bladder is full. Don’t ask me. But the down side is that at the specialist place, they make you meet with a genetic counselor who ostensibly is supposed to answer any questions you have and track your family’s genetic history – in reality, they scare the piss out of you - in my opinion, largely unnecessarily.

I hate to sound hubristic, or tempt the fates or gods or whatever, but Dan and I always opt out of the optional tests.

The alpha-feta protein test (triple screen) screens for Down’s and neural tube defects (anencephaly, spina bifida). Sounds smart, eh? But the test returns almost a fifty percent *false* positive test result. So then, to prevent the worrying for the next several months, you get an amniocentesis, which in addition to being just scary and uncomfortable, has a 1 in 200 chance of causing miscarriage. So since I faithfully take my prenatal vitamins, meaning I get plenty of folic acid, and since even if the baby had Down’s, we would not terminate the pregnancy, we decided against it. A Level Two ultrasound catches something like 80% of spinal issues and 30-40% of Down’s, and so I guess we are willing to live with the risk. I feel like perhaps I am being irresponsible, but I really am not – I take good care of myself, I have excellent prenatal care, and while I appreciate the doctors watching out for me, I’d prefer not to be scared witless by the genetic counselor. When I had my genetic counseling and ultrasound with Jude, I was in tears. This time I was prepared for her spiel, and tried to be polite but firm.

The good news is that the baby seems just fine, s/he is the right size for my dates, and s/he has all ten fingers/toes, and other required organs. The ultrasound tech said she could tell the sex, but I did not want to know – reminds me of that Simpsons’ episode:

Homer: It’s a boy! And what a boy!
Doctor: Homer, that’s the umbilical cord.

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I finished Tony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential last night and started re-reading (not that I remember much of the first reading) A Prayer for Owen Meany. I also simultaneously began The Cruelest Miles, about the sled dogs getting the diphtheria vaccine to Nome, Alaska. Both of which will get dropped as soon as I get my hands on the new Beth Gutcheon, Leeway Cottage (whose plot line, for some reason, reminds me of Madeleine L’Engle’s The Small Rain), due out tomorrow. I don’t work tomorrow until 2 pm so I plan to be at B&N in the morning.

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Dan has turned me to the dark side – I am actually looking forward to watching some Curb Your Enthusiasm episodes tonight. I hated that stupid show and that horrible little weaselly man when I first saw it, and now I think it’s hilarious. How did this happen to me?!

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Nick Hornby has a new book coming out on June 2!