It was August 8, 2013. It was two days before my birthday and before my drivers license would expire. Yes, I procrastinated. But, I felt proud that I was going to at least get it done BEFORE it actually expired. Yay me!
I didn’t have an appointment and the line was out the door. Once I got a peek inside, I realized the line wasn’t so bad. I had gotten up earlier that day and actually used a blowdryer on my hair. I put on extra makeup, including eyeliner. I never do. I was so excited to actually take a new picture for my license because I was pregnant. I was excited to be able to show Leo my license one day and say “you were in the picture, too!” My current picture was taken just after our honeymoon and I had a nice smile and glowing, tanned skin. Both memories I was looking forward to sharing with our kid.
Back to the line. I eventually made it to the point where you’d be assigned a number. G93, I think it was. The wait wasn’t very long. I had all my paperwork ready. I was sitting down and fiddling with my phone. I was observing everyone and posted to Facebook asking if there was a site like the People of Walmart, but for the DMV. A few moments later my phone was ringing. It was a number I somewhat recognized and figured it would be important to answer. It was our Genetic Counselor. He called with some new and some “scary numbers”, as he called them. My number was called right at this very moment. I tried to see if I could put him on hold while I dealt with the clerk. I was a little bit distraught. I told the Genetic Counselor to please call me back in 10 minutes.
I completed the initial part of my paperwork and was supposed to go back and sit down and wait to be called to have my picture taken. Tears were already filling my eyes. How could I take a picture now? Instead, I left and sat in my car to wait out those minutes. He called back in 17 minutes. I remember, because I looked. About 9 minutes of crying and anxiety. He called to tell me that our second trimester screening had come back as positive for Down Syndrome. And the rest of the story has already been told.
I’m sitting in the car, I didn’t know if I should go back in and handle the rest of the DMV transaction. I mean, how could I? I now had tear stains on my cheeks and the whatever was left of my mascara and eyeliner was hanging on by a thread. I called my husband instead. I asked him to come home and then I began sobbing. That we had received bad news. He tried his best to comfort me, and I tried my best to convince him that it was all going to be okay. It wasn’t.
And, my license is now expired. I have to go and get that taken care of. And it’s taking every bit of my strength to make myself go. Every day I delay it. I understand why, now.
I don’t want a license photo that is just of me. It was supposed to be the both of us.