Tuesday 13th December 2016
Today was our 12 week scan. The official one. The one with the warm gel that they plop on my lower tummy, the gel that gets everywhere… and the prodding until we see our little ray of sunshine on the screen. The one that we should have had first.
I was ready for this one though. I had managed to drink the water. I had managed to keep it down. My bladder was full and I was ready to see my baby properly, with open, conscious eyes… Unlike through a dehydrated blur at the 9 week transvaginal scan.
I was excited, nervous…scared! The sickness was still rife so in the back of my mind, I still had that fear that I had somehow hurt my little person. I was still quite terrified that I hadn’t been able to offer up any goodness to help him or her get established. Especially when all I could keep down lately were salty McDonalds fries and all things terrible for me… and the baby. I was doing my best but I had that awful doubt in my heart that it was going to be good enough this time.
But… Just like last time, our baby proved to be much stronger than me.
We were shown the heartbeat first. That beautiful, train track heartbeat. So small but so incredible. And, I smiled hard as I looked upon this moving image of the little one growing in my tummy. I smiled because he or she chose to stay. Chose to fight to stay with me. I smiled because we were fighting for each other every day, loved each other every day, chose each other every day but had to wait so long still, to meet each other properly. I smiled because I could imagine that day.
I could imagine the warmth of my baby, nestled in my arms or laying on my chest, falling asleep to the sound of my heartbeat… The sound that it would know so well.
I could have stayed there for days watching our baby just be. I already knew that I would miss this moment as soon as it had passed. Already excited for the next scan so that we could ‘be together again’.
The baby didn’t enjoy the scan so much though. It would seem that he or she is stubborn, a tough cookie even. Refusing to move, to change positions… no matter how many times I had to wiggle, jump up and down, do a half wee, and a little bit more and then a full one. The need to cooperate obviously wasn’t a priority for our sleepy babe. With a flick of the hand to communicate disgust at being disturbed, we didn’t get very far.
Far enough to be told not to worry though… Everything is looking as it should. Everything is looking good.
And, Matt and I left as happy parents-to-be (again!)