The chromosomes have been counted, and in spite of my extremely advanced maternal age (38 on Tuesday, Happy Birthday to me), everything is in pairs, like how they're supposed to be.
Oh, and there's no toxoplasmosis virus in the fluid either.
But the two-vessel umbilical cord thing is more of an issue than first discussed.
While the purported tenuous link to Down's and other birth defects was not borne out by my amnio test results, there are now other issues we have to not-worry about.
What? Me? Worry? Never.
Apparently the two-not-three-vessel cord is also linked to a "very slight" risk of growth issues and stillbirth.
My OB wants us to have extra ultrasounds to monitor the baby's growth, and then starting at 32 weeks, she wants me to come to the hospital weekly (or was it biweekly?) for "antepartum testing" which includes fetal heart monitoring and I'm not sure what else. The main concern is that with only two tubes connected to it, the placenta may not be doing its job.
Oh, you know, they'd probably have me monitored like that anyway because I'm SO OLD, she said (but maybe in nicer words).
"You are old!" said my mother.
"I'm not THAT old!" I argued back. Anyway, 38 means a lot of different things in a lot of different bodies.
My friend R., the nurse practitioner, said, "Doctors really don't know everything."
Several friends have asked me what would be done if it's decided that the baby isn't growing properly. I'll have to ask that question at my next OB appointment on Monday.
"Don't worry," my father said.
I'm trying not to. But so far, I've only had about one week of not worrying out of the last 18.
First there was the first-trimester-you-don't-know-if-you-might-lose-the-baby so-don't-tell-anyone-you're-pregnant worry.
Next came the crazy toxoplasmosis scare and then the amnio. It was only the week between getting the good news from the FISH results and the bad news about my defective cord (bad mama, can't nourish your baby properly), that I actually got to get groovy with the growing baby, angst-free. Oh, except for the part where I had to get over it being a boy and not a girl.
This is why people who don't even know me frequently suggest I have a drink, learn to golf, meditate.
The good news is that I actually already meditate twice a day. Imagine how much worse I would be without that!
Then again, I'm Jewish. It's my heritage to worry.
I think the Kinsey Sicks express this sentiment better than I could in their song "Worry." (I tried to find a track or video to link to on the Internet, but none exist, probably due to the fact that it's a reworking of Bobby McFerrin's famous 1980s feel-good hit. So you'll just have to buy the CD, which you should do anyway, because you haven't lived until you've heard their rendition of the "Macaroona.")