I keep beginning to write about this morning's ultrasound, and I end up feeling lost. Everything looks lovely. Dr. K congratulated me about five times as she reviewed my images. "This is textbook normal," she declared, smiling. Because I've had spotting—some of it red and scary-looking—and because this little one is situated in the left side of my uterus (which has never housed a baby) Dr. K had some recommendations: regular cervical checks, monthly ultrasounds, and no "heavy lifting, strenuous exercise, or sexual activity" until I've gone a week with no spotting. She also told me not to worry.
I don't think I'm worried. I'm just...stunned, maybe? I'm not even sure what I'm feeling, and maybe that's where the idea of being lost is coming from. My mind is blank...and not.
The fetus struck me as very baby-like, which surprised me. In the 30 minutes we spent spying on it, the fetus jumped, hiccuped, and waved its tiny arms. I found myself desperate to know whether this little person is a boy or a girl. (Westley thinks girl, without question.)
Everything about pregnancy has seemed incredibly fragile and temporary, until this morning. Last night I crawled into bed early, but found I couldn't sleep. I tried imagining my little passenger, but instead I found myself wondering if anyone was really there. This afternoon, lying down for a nap with my hand on my left side, I thought, You are a much wanted baby.