we don't do perfect around here.

we don't do perfect around here.

It is 1:25 in the afternoon.

Ophelia is asleep and I just found Oscar napping on the couch.

This kind of moment NEVER happens. The silence is incredible and I finally have a moment to breathe and to tell you something.

Yes, there is something.

Isn’t there always something?

As you know, I am pregnant…with twins. A boy and a girl. Exactly what we wanted.

What I haven’t shared with you yet is that our sweet girl has a heart defect called an Interrupted Aortic Arch. This means that, after her birth, she will need to have surgery to correct it. As stunned as we were at that moment, we also learned that there is a 50/50 chance that this defect was caused by a syndrome that our baby may have called DiGeorge Syndrome. I will be 100% truthful with you, I have not allowed myself to research it too much as we have decided to forgo the amnio and will test her when she is born to see if she does, in fact, have this syndrome. Of course, as if that wasn’t enough, the cardiologist says it is very rare to find the interrupted aortic arch to be the an isolated issue. We will learn more next Wednesday, but we are prepared to hear that there is more wrong, like a potential hole in the heart. Both these heart defects are treatable and those children affected grow up to live normal, healthy lives. As terrible as the day was when we found out this news, we feel so fortunate that they have caught this early. Our doctors were clearly amazed that our sonographer was able to recognized this defect when she did (oh, and that is a another story for another time, trust me). We were told that this can easily be overlooked during an ultrasound and that babies born with this defect can appear healthy until they arrive home and go into cardiac arrest and eventual heart failure. Ah, perspective, my friend, my coping mechanism. Perspective seems to help me through the hard things or at least, around them…a little.

Speaking of getting through things, we cried a LOT that day. The amount of “what ifs” that invaded my brain and tried to set up shop made me nearly paralyzed with fear. What if we had just been happy with two kids? Wouldn’t our lives be a whole lot simpler? Are we selfish for wanting more? What if we had our embryos genetically tested when they were first fertilized? Wouldn’t we have been able to pick the most healthy of the bunch? What if I hadn’t taken that medication for nausea?

What if?

What if?


Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night.