you would have thought someone had both their hands around my neck and was squeezing as hard as they could. Slow falling tears just crept down my face. I could barely utter the words, "Okay, thank you for letting us know." That phone call was JUST the beginning of the heartbreak, the anxiety, the fear, and the tears to come. Because of the risk for T18, we were referred to a high risk OB to do further testing and monitoring since our OB wasn't equipped to handle medically complex cases. The first visit to the high risk OB was okay. We had an ultrasound and our baby girl looked perfect! We had a consult with a genetic counselor that explained what T18 was and she told us what to expect, roughly. Lastly, we talked with one of the physicians and he just wanted to make sure we understood what the diagnosis meant. Not just so we knew but so that we were able to explain to our family as well. I was so scared of losing Aria. That fear really lingered in the back of my mind more often than I'd like to admit. So much so that I wasn't even sure if I should tell our family about her. How do you tell your other children that they're gonna have a baby sister but they wont ever meet her because she has a condition that will send her to Heaven before she's born. How do I tell my mom and dad they're going to have another baby grand, and that its another girl, but they wont get to hold her. They wont get to spoil her and love on her because she's destined to pass before she takes her first breath. It's especially hard knowing that IF Aria was a girl she was going to share my late grandmother's middle name of JANE. The only comfort I had that allowed me to accept that I may never see my sweet girl with her eyes open was that I knew my nana, her namesake, would be there to hold her and love on her for me in Heaven. Grieving this was the hardest silent battle I've ever faced. Holding this in and feeling so isolated because we were afraid of breaking everyone else's hearts too was so overwhelming. I literally felt like grief had me in a chokehold that I couldn't tap out of. Ultimately Robert and I decided that our family deserved to know about Aria. We realized that IF we did lose her, our family would be grieving this loss too. We thought that by telling them, it may give them time to process the loss before it happened and help with their grieving when the time comes. Of course we still had hope that Aria wouldn't have T18 and that she would be born perfect and beautiful. But we weren't being unrealistically hopeful. So we decided to tell them on Christmas morning. I had a special Sweatshirt made for my mom. The front said MIMI est 2009. (that was the year her first grandson was born.) And down the sleeve I had all of her grandchildren's names listed in succession to their birth. Aiden, Ian, Kaiden, Alex, Ainslie, Alikai, Ander, and at the very end Aria Jane. We briefly explained about T18, but didn't talk about it too much since we still were undure if she even had it. I can't even describe the weight that was lifted off my shoulders being able to share about Aria. I no longer felt so isolated and my support system was back. It wasn't until a few visits later to this office that the waves of anxiety really started to topple over us. The routine was to have an ultrasound, again Aria looked perfect. Growth was great, no physical defects were seen. Her organs and all internal systems seemed to all be there and looked to be functioning. We had another genetic consult and they were just seeing if we had any questions because they hadn't yet seen any features of T18 to really discuss. Then we saw another physician and he suggested we do amniocentesis to confirm or rule out T18. He then proceeded to tell us that we should do that and if it turns out that "the fetus" did have T18 we could talk about our options moving forward. It really bothered me that he said "the fetus." It felt very dry and almost cold that he didn't even consider her a person, he didn't even ask if she had a name. He also followed up that sentence with "If the amnio does confirm T18, "The most compassionate thing you can do for her is to terminate the pregnancy. Trisomy 18 is a fatal chromosomal abnormality and these babies usually pass in utero before the 7th month gestation mark. IF they live past that they will likely be stillborn or may live a very short time after birth. But this is a fatal abnormality, these babies don't live." My brain kind of just shut off after he said the word 'terminate.' For one, abortion isn't even legal in Tennessee anymore.. I couldn't abort this pregnancy even if I wanted to.. And the fact that termination was even being thrown out there in conversation before we even truly knew IF she had T18 or not was just so unreal to me. At this time, I couldn't think straight. I was overwhelmed, I was hurt, I was confused. We told them that termination was NOT on the table for us, T18 or not, and that at this time we would decline the amnio and would think on it. We just didn't feel the need to do that until we saw any markers on an ultrasound that were an inclination that she had T18. I honestly couldn't get OUT of that office fast enough that day. Fast forward to through December and January, all of our appointments had been great. Still no markers of Trisomy 18. None, no physical deformities found, all her internal systems seemed to be normal. All her organs were present and looked normal. We truly started to feel like the NIPT risk assessment had been wrong. February 13th at 22 weeks and 5 days gestation, everything changed. At her ultrasound, they found a small ASD heart defect, and baby girl was now measuring about 5 days smaller than she should be. Heart defects and growth restrictions are two very common markers for T18. Granted these two COULD be caused by something else and didn't truly mean she had T18, we knew that it was a higher risk that T18 was the culprit. That day we opted to do amniocentesis. We needed to know. We had the amnio that day and had to wait another 5-7 days for the results. I remember the day I got that phone call so vividly. I was just finishing up a work seminar, I was sitting next to my manager Heather, and the phone rings. I answered and it was the genetic counselor. "Hi Chelsey, this is XXXXX, I have the results from your amniocentesis and unfortunately it does show that the baby does have Full Trisomy 18. At your next visit, we can discuss the next steps and can start planning out a comfort care plan for the baby" That was it. Those two sentences woke me up and I had my first small come-apart. "At my next visit, we will be discussing a CARE plan for ARIA. I am NOT planning for 'comfort care.' Thank you for the information regarding the results, but I have to go." In this moment, I had a rush of emotions, but the most prominent one was anger. With this diagnosis I felt like my baby girl was completely written off. Like she didn't matter to anyone else. Like she wasn't as important. WHY does my daughter having one extra chromosome make her any less than any other baby...? That's all I could think..