Overnight our lives have turned into some sort of science fiction/horror show. Last night I psyched myself up to expect the worst, but that didn’t make it any easier when the bad news came. Though it took a while. No one wanted to take the responsibility to confirm our worst fears. Everyone we encountered did their best to dodge the bullet. It was terrible when it finally happened, but a relief that someone was being straight with us. It turns out that our baby, with the odds at about one or two in a thousand, has a neural tube disorder called anencephaly. It’s fatal. As a former Catholic I can’t help but feel I’m being punished for something…perhaps for my arrogance. I mistakenly assumed this pregnancy would be a piece of cake, as my first went off without a hitch. Everything was smooth as buttah with the little man. It was a simple pregnancy, with no complications (aside from him being breech before birth) and when he came out by c-section he was an absolutely perfect and healthy baby, who grew into a beautiful boy. For some reason I expected the same ease this time around. Instead I now find myself faced with two gruesome options, as outlined by the genetic counselor we met with (that job title sounds like it’s straight out of Gattaca). One, I could have labor induced…to deliver a baby who will die shortly afterward. Or two, I could undergo a two day dilation and evacuation procedure, where the fetus will not come out intact. I feel numb.