Today was finally, finally May 18. The day we go in for our 19-week ultrasound. The day we find out if my placenta has migrated a safe distance away from my cervix. The day we find out if our baby is healthy inside and out (or not). The day we find out if I can resume normal life with a toddler, travel on an airplane, end pelvic rest … have a normal life again.
A lot was riding on this day for me mentally. I have been nervous and anxious and excited for this moment. I have wondered if it will still be a boy (which makes little sense as our perinatologist was VERY sure it was a boy a month ago. The whole idea of having a son is still sinking in!). I have wondered if he will be healthy. If there will be some indication of illness or disability. This pregnancy has been so fraught with challenge I have almost come to expect the worst. It is how I cope with the unknown, I suppose.
It has occurred to me a lot this week that this is the time in a pregnancy when a lot of couples find out if they're having a boy or a girl. This is the "big" ultrasound … the one they look forward to from the day they get a positive pregnancy test if they're planning on finding out the gender of their baby. To say a lot more than blue or pink was riding on this for us is a major understatement.
As I lay on the table while Dr. T worked I watched his facial expressions closely. I couldn't see the screen again today and there was no hand mirror. I turned to John and whispered questions: "Is the baby moving?" (yes) and "Can you see?" (uh-huh!). I got one word answers and John stayed glued to the screen. Dr. T yawned into his hand as he scrolled the roller ball on his machine and moved the wand around on my stomach. He didn't appear stressed. He didn't appear to be studying anything that looked off. He scrolled and clicked and measured, his nurse working quietly behind him on files, bringing things to mine and paper-clipping and tucking things in. The room was quiet and peaceful. I tried to be very still even though my hip was aching terribly.
And finally the moment came. Dr. T wiped off my stomach and began putting things away.
"Everything looks really good."
The baby is perfect. He is still a boy. The placenta has migrated out of the way.
"You're basically back to normal."
We asked all our questions and the only admonishment was "Well, you're still pregnant … don't go crazy!"
We walked to the elevators on a cloud, hardly believing the brevity of the visit, the relief the doctor displayed to deliver good news, unable to comprehend the ultrasound photo in our hands. In the clear. Healthy. Back to normal.
And then exhaustion set in. We celebrated at our favorite deli. Called the family to tell them how the visit went. Ate our sandwiches in calm silence, drifting in our own thoughts. What do we think about now with the worry of how this pregnancy effects the baby and me wiped clean?
Honestly, WHO CARES? This afternoon Sydney jumped in the shower with me fully clothed (including shoes) and all I could do is laugh. I am still so, so tired. But I am just so full of joy. I cannot wait to take my daughter to the playground. I cannot wait to visit our (now two-month-old) niece in Montana and my family in Colorado. I am sitting here on the couch writing this just enjoying feeling my son roll around in my belly instead of worrying about every little twinge and what it could mean.
We are so very blessed. Every concern has been met with undeniable healing. The fight has been fought and – here, at the halfway point – has been won. Thank you Jesus. And onward and upward, little Rocky! We cannot wait to meet you.