Yesterday morning was my first sonogram for this pregnancy.
I needed one because my midwife was concerned about a couple of things. Everything is fine.
As I lay on the table, a bit nervous to see if the baby was okay, I was amazed at how, well... amazed I was. Here I am in my fifth pregnancy...I have laid on a table looking at the black and white images of my baby on the screen six to ten times before...and the sight still brought tears to my eyes. I don't care how many times you've been through it...there's still something so wonderful about feeling that probe hit your abdomen, not yet protruding or appearing pregnant, and seeing a little person wiggling around in there. The little fluttering heart, the tiny arms and legs waving...it's such a miracle. It reminded me of how much I love being pregnant.
Sure, I'm in the thick of the toughest part. I found out yesterday that I am NOT 11 weeks as I thought, but only ten. That means that there are potentially three more rough weeks ahead of me. But when I saw that baby...I was so happy for the sickness and fatigue and mood swings. It's all physical evidence of what I can only see on those black and white screens for now...there's a baby in there.
And in another month or two, I'll start to feel better, I'll look pregnant, and I'll get to experience something I thought I'd never do again...I'll feel that little miracle moving and growing inside of me...anticipating the moment when I'll get to hold her. (Oh, yeah, by the way...I'm convinced it's a girl!)