The day before our sonogram felt like Christmas Eve. I'd been counting down the days for weeks, like a kid before Christmas, that wonderful excitement that I don't feel as much as an adult. We were going to get to meet our little one in a new way. Ryan and I took a walk that Sunday, the day before, and were smiling and saying, " it's tomorrow! It's happening!". And we were both trying to focus on the happiness of it more than on the possibility of bad news. We walked by the little playground that I've been looking at the past 3 years knowing our children would play there. And we've had to wait longer than expected. Without thinking I went and sat on one of the swings and went lightly back and forth.
A group of kids was playing nearby, around 8 years old. A little girl got up suddenly and said she had to go to the bathroom, but saw the swings and changed coarse. There are only 2 swings. And she sat down on the one next to me and smiled and started to swing, just looking at me. It was sweetly awkward, and I admit I was honored. But I had no idea what to say. Examples of possibilities that popped in my head, "What's your name," ...no, that felt a little creepy for a stranger in a park. Then came the idea, "So, do you come here often? " which made me laugh out loud. So I decided just to smile back and say nothing let myself swing with her. Ryan was watching with a big smile on his face.
She got a good arc coing and suddenly jumped off, with great flare, and then got back on and swung some more. "Good jump" I said, glad to have something to reference. She said thanks. "I'm not going to jump off." I said, and she looked at my belly and said " I can see why," which made me really happy that she knew I was pregnant. We swung a while longer and then I stopped and said I was going, and nice swinging with you.
I walked up to Ryan, all happy, and said, "I'm gonna be a mom again," and he said, "I was thinking the same thing." It was a small answer, I could feel it in my body, that those swings would still get to bring that joy to me, and that little girl who sat next to me and wanted to swing with me was a healer in her right, she brought reassurance. I thought, "this little baby must be a girl."
We know it is best to focus on the large percentages that all will be well, that this will go well, that she will come, that we will be incredibly happy.
But going to the doctor for results on a test for our child will not be an easy task for us for a long time. If you have never stood in an elevator, slowly going up, and felt your knees buckle beneath you as the door opens because you will have to walk down a long hallway to a small meeting room filled with 9 doctors with an answer, then it will be hard for you to understand our fear. If you haven't sat in this room with your husband and parents while everyone tried to act normal before they told you the news like they were reading a story, "Otto has severe brain damage, and will not live long, " and felt your precious son float away from you, when you were hoping the answer would be that maybe he would have some learning disabilities or some challenges, but he'd have a life, if you haven't felt the world fade away from you in a single moment, then you won't know what it feels like. If that hasn't been your experience, then it might not make sense how our hearts pound as we wait for a result.
We are learning to let this baby have a life of her own, a pregnancy all her own, a birth all her own. She has her own life to live, and it is not Otto's life, she is a new person. But driving to the hospital, my primal self took over and I found it hard to breathe. I was excited and yet I felt like my lungs were sore, and I hoped they wouldn't take my blood pressure! Long, loud breaths in the car, 10 minute drive. Once we were there, waiting, on time even, I felt much better. And they called my name, and I went in and the tech got right to business. And all of a sudden, there was our baby, looking right up at us.
Our baby is indeed a little girl. Or they're pretty sure she's a girl. Like we thought! The ultrasound was amazing, to see her hands in little fists, moving around, in front of her face, off to the side, to see her legs, stretched out and curled up, my heart was sore from so much love and longing to hold her. The technician said all the measurements look good and we just got confirmation from the head nurse that all is well. Elation. Love.
This is such good news.
The week after the sonogram was heavy - lots of crying, lots of release, of missing our boy, the reality of this new little girl coming, she's really coming. Feeling her move, feeling her not move and having a small panic till I look up "fetal movement 20 weeks" on google and see that everyone has the exact same post, and that it's normal for movement to be inconsistent now since baby is still small and won't always kick where you can feel it. Sigh of relief.
She is well and active and we're halfway there. I imagine holding her for the first time, so sweet, so warm, my baby, in my arms. Keep imagining this image. We don't have a name yet but we have the same conversation all the time, going through the list and liking different names on different days. These beautiful cool July days with roses all over sidewalks and a full moon and green tomatoes and a hummingbird on his favorite branch in our backyard tree. Our family, all four of us.
