These last couple of weeks have been brutally difficult.
Nothing in particular was wrong – pregnancy is flowing along as smoothly as I could ask for – but I’ve been all too conscious that these weeks – 17, 18, 19 – were the last remaining few with Ezra where I was blissfully happy and ignorant. It’s been very hard not to see disaster roaring towards us like a thundering train as we approached our anatomy scan. We just had no idea last time – no idea. For whatever reason, remembering that feeling is one of the most painful things for me. That span of time before I knew.
We went in for our scan a couple of days ago, and although logically I knew that things were probably fine, I couldn’t shake the feeling of doom. Also – is it weird that at this hospital they won’t let me see the screen? Thank goodness for Lauren, whose expression has been the best part of all of my scans so far. I may not be able to tell what’s going on, but her looks of surprise and delight as Moose does…whatever Moose is doing, melt me every time. They do give me a glimpse at the end, at least.
The scan took about an hour, the longest, quietest hour ever. Our Moose is fine. The brain and eye problems have not reoccurred, the other organs all look good. Our geneticist gave us both a hug, welcomed us to “boring pregnancy”, and told us to let them know when I deliver so he can visit us in the hospital and meet our daughter.
Moose is a wonderfully developing, very active, little girl.
(More to come later, as I’m swirling with thoughts, but at the moment I am limp with relief and exhaustion. I’ll savour it. Also, pictures to follow, as soon as I convince the hospital to fix our ridiculously expensive, non-working CD of ultrasound images.)