Our Progenity Test Results

October 30, 2017 at 6:28 pm


When we found out my 5th baby was a girl, I couldn’t contain the tears. Grief bubbled up from the depths of my heart and oozed in salty trickles down my face. As soon as I was able, I retreated to my bedroom and sobbed. Wailed. The force of my grief stunned me.  But it was raw, and it was real.

At the time, my six-year-old son asked, “Why are you crying, Mom?” The jumble inside of me felt so complex that I had no words that could adequately do it justice, but my attempt to give him the decency of a response came out: “Because I wanted to meet Elijah.”

Later, someone asked me, “What is it about a girl that upsets you?” But it was so much bigger and more complex than male or female. My tears and my grief stemmed from four years of anticipating a very specific soul. Four years of agonizing over whether I actually had to courage to give life again. Four years of traveling in and out of a darkness more painful than anything I have ever known. Four years of feeling my son’s presence, talking with him, learning his gifts and mission in life, and feeling his intense love for me.  Four years of telling him, “I don’t know if I can do it.” Four years of him telling me, “It will be OK.” And then before I even felt ready to attempt to bring him here, I was looking at a positive pregnancy test. I had been through so much. But meeting him seemed like the perfect consolation prize… the rainbow after the terrifying storm. The thought of finally meeting him in the flesh made that surprise pregnancy so much easier to embrace.

But that 5th baby wasn’t him. She was my Hope. And I didn’t know how much I needed her until she came.

Hope- birth day


Today we received the results from our Progenity screening test

What that means is that we learned that our 6th baby has no signs of chromosomal abnormalities, and we learned our baby’s gender. I was definitely relieved to learn that we would not have to navigate a whole new parenting terrain with Down syndrome, though I was willing if it had been the path we were given. But the information I was most eager to discover was not actually the chromosomal portion of the results. The part that made my heart pound with anticipation was my baby’s gender.

After we hung up the phone with my midwife, I turned to my husband, threw my arms around his neck, and cried. But, this time, my tears were not tears of grief. They were tears of overwhelming, all-encompassing, beyond-description relief and joy and peace and other emotions I don’t even know how to name.

It’s Elijah. He’s coming.