A tsunami of love
At twelve weeks pregnant, I logged onto my online medical portal to confirm a routine doctor’s appointment. It was a crisp autumn day in Connecticut, already deliciously mapped out. That night my husband and I would stay in a quaint bed and breakfast. During the day there were plans for a pub lunch, antiquing, and a walk.
It was 2020, just as restaurants and hotels were opening up after months of lockdowns in New York, and the weekend away was meaningful to us. We were excited about getting out and about; excited about the baby, our first. Bursting with schemes for the year ahead. Then I opened the portal. And saw an appointment scheduled with a genetic counsellor.
Some blood tests had come back that
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