Dear space prawn,
We had our scans on Thursday.
Your father and I got to see for the first time that you’re really in there, and you have four limbs in working order, a head, a nose, fingers and toes all accounted for and a very cute little wriggle action when you’re woken up.
I was a bit nervous before we went in. What if there were two of you in there? (At least that might help explain my gargantuan eating habits).
I lay back on the bed as the doctor spread some cold gel on my belly and I looked up at the screen on the ceiling, holding on to your dad’s hand tightly. There was a little swoosh movement on the black and white screen and then all of a sudden – there you were. So tiny, cushioned in there by layers of my belly (womb + too many shortbread biscuits and steak bakes).
The doctor measured you from head to bum, then measured a fold at the back of your neck to make sure you were developing properly. She pointed out this little black hole, which to us looked just like a black hole, but the doctor insisted it was your heart, and sure enough – we could see it beating away, and then she turned the microphone on and we could hear your heart beating. Your teeny, little, super-fast precious heart, ticking away. As it should. At 166 beats per minute.
After a few more minutes, the doctor asked me to jiggle my hips to get you into position for some more measurements. And we woke you up! You wriggled away, probably rather grumpy at being woken up so unceremoniously. Not unlike your mother, then.
But mostly: you are so cuuuuute!
We got some pictures to take away, and while a little bit blurry, we know it’s you.
It was like you became really real for the first time, and I think it affected us both more than we anticipated.
When I met your dad I was in a dark place, and I didn’t think my sore and scabby heart had any room or capacity to be filled with so much love – and your dad showed me (and still does) that I was wrong.
I still marvel at how much room there is for more love for your dad, and what I learned on Thursday is that now there’s even more room – so much more – for loving you as well. I can’t wait to meet you and give you a cuddle. The labour side of things I’m happy to miss out on.
Well, that’s the good news.
The bad news is that your mother is turning into one of those pregnant women who gets all gushy at soft toys and baby clothes. This is not good. I am finding it deeply unsettling, given how much I hate pastel colours and anything remotely cutesy. Still, I really liked the Sesame Street cuddly toys and all-in-one zoo animal jumpsuits I found yesterday. What’s not to love about Bert and Ernie and Snuffleupagus and crocodiles and lions?
And I wish I could stop crying at everything. That’s driving me a bit mental and it does strange things to my colleagues, who generally speaking just want to know if I’ve collected my printing or formatted that design job yet.
My belly is getting tight as I think you are growing at a great rate, which is back into the good news category. Only 28 weeks or so to go …
