My husband and I decided to go ahead and see a genetic counselor. Going to a doctor, hoping they find something wrong with you, and then praying it can be fixed, feels a little strange. Our appointment is today, and – while getting dressed – I realized I was trying to pick an outfit for the occasion, like we all sometimes or always do (depending on the occasion, person, and his or her pretension to style – or maybe just vanity). But this time, I realized I was trying to pick something that made me look healthy.
What are the qualities of an outfit that makes me look healthy, you ask? I am not really sure, but I guess not necessarily one to hide behind, but an outfit that makes me look vibrant, strong, and like I wouldn’t have a genetic dysfunction causing my pregnancies to fail. Yeah, one like that.
I think I found myself imagining the doctor scanning us, garnished in our healthy outfits, and pre-approving us. I imagine the doctor looking at the test results and, if there is an abnormality, simply thinking it cannot be so because we just looked so darned glowy in that consultation! Either way, I am realizing I am obviously a little nervous about the appointment.
I think I am at a point where I can talk about losing Adam Gabriel without getting weepy, but I can never tell for sure. Depending on the question, the phrasing, and what traumatic triggers might be set off, my reaction varies. Usually I am okay, but always my heart is racing inside. Always I feel incredibly vulnerable. And now I am voluntarily asking another stranger to rummage through my body and soul, bringing to the surface the subject that has torn my heart into shreds.
Maybe focusing on the outfit was just the easiest thing to do. Looking healthy seems a lot less stressful than worrying about what uncontrollable truths lie underneath my skin. But, as I’ve written about previously, this life is all about peeling off our protective thorns to get busy living the life we are really meant to live.
Here I go.