Maybe I've grown so accustomed to "abnormal" results over this past year and some months, I don't know how to anticipate getting any "normal" news from my doctor. Of course I was excited for our second ultrasound. In my mind, if things were developing as they should, we would be able to see the beginnings of arms and legs, as well as more definition of the head. But there's always that nagging suspicion in the back of my mind that tells me something could be "abnormal". Gestational diabetes? Improbable, but not impossible. Developmental defects? That could happen during the growth of any baby. Low amniotic fluid or imbalance of hormones? Both were certainly possible. And your anxiety is never assuaged when you are an information junkie like myself. The access to books and websites that outline the infinite number of things that could go wrong in a pregnancy is dangerous for someone like me.
So while I sat in the waiting room of the OB/GYN's office on Monday afternoon, I tried to distract myself with articles in Time magazine and a handful of grammar worksheets that needed grading. When Michael arrived, I turned my focus to a conversation with him. We made tentative plans for dinner at home and complained about how he would have to go back to work when our appointment was over. But we only briefly spoke about why we were there to begin with. Maybe we were both a little edgy about what would pop up on today's grainy black and white screen.
Finally, my name was called. They measured my blood pressure and checked my weight. Those seemed to be normal. The doctor came into the patient room. He reassured me that having the stomach virus last week was normal for many women in their first trimester and I shouldn't worry. That made two "normals" for the visit up to that point. Would our ultrasound make a third?
My abdomen was squirted with sonogram jelly and the doctor got right to work. He slid the wand around, pressing and changing the angle until he saw exactly what he needed to see. And there our baby was in all its glory. No longer an amorphous mass, but a mini-human taking shape. It was what an almost-9-week-old fetus should look like.
|A view of our nerd from his/her front side. The head is on the right, and a tiny arm bud is poking out on the top. Growth is looking downright good.|
And what our doctor said next was what made my heart flutter:
"That is one good-looking baby. This is a textbook pregnancy. It's what we hope to see each and every time we reach the eighth week."I could have cried. After months of "we don't know what the hell is wrong with you" because your ovaries would rather play hooky than give you a healthy follicle, it was nice to be "normal". Michael even gave a little chuckle at hearing the doctor's words. He was obviously as relieved as me. And as if the baby knew we were watching in sheer amazement, he/she gave a little wiggle. Holy crap, our baby moved! This ultrasound had just gone beyond all expectation.
The doctor went on about how our pregnancy was low-risk for all the concerns I had. There was another "normal" for me. When I mentioned the vividness of my dreams and how I was only reaching the REM stage of sleep, he threw a fifth "normal" in for me. I don't think the visit could have gone any better. He kindly put our baby nerd's pictures on a flash drive and sent us away smiling until our faces hurt.
|The doc threw in a 3-D view because he's addicted to the technology. Our nerd is starting to look more human and less like a wad of gum.|
Thanks for your continued love and support. It's making this pregnancy all the more special.