I never really made a point in that last entry. My computer was dying and so I just posted it, unfinished. I’m not sure I really had a point, now. I think I was pissed off at the pro-induction doctors for making it sound like induction was a sure way to know what day your baby will arrive and which doctor will be able to deliver your baby; they give you these drugs and voila! A few hours pass and you have a baby. It doesn’t always work that way.
So, all this has got me thinking about Henry’s birth and newborn days. And, it’s got me wondering if I could go through it all again. I don’t know. Brad doesn’t know. We haven’t decided anything, but neither one of us is seeming too eager for another child at this point. Before, I always thought two children would be right. Now, I don’t know. I guess the genetic issues are hanging over me whenever this subject arises. Henry has what appears to be a very mild version of Alagille’s syndrome, aka arteriohepatic dysplasia. An inherited disease. There’s a chance any other children we have could also have it. Why don’t Brad or I have any symptoms? We don’t know. Maybe one of us did and no one realized it. It’s all very uncertain. If there was a guarantee that any future children would be disease free or have only very mild versions…
I realized as I typed that last sentence that it’s crazy. There are no guarantees in life. Of course we’ll think about this as we decide about having another child; we’ll probably even see a genetic counselor. But, it won’t be the only factor in the decision, I think.
I feel depressed. Genetic counseling, wrong-headed obstetricians, rainy weather, chemical imbalance, all of the above… Bleah. Must find chocolate soon.