I've been doing fairly well--only a few more panicky situations, though there have been countless quiet thoughts and prayers for a healthy baby.
All my experience, unwanted but mine nonetheless, told me that this week was going to be difficult. I've put on a brave face and tried to be only happy for the ultrasound today. Inside, however, I was feeling much less brave. I crawled up onto the table and pulled up my shirt. I've been feeling the baby move a lot, so I knew there was life, but there was life before.
The technician glided her instrument over my jellied belly. She took stills of the kidneys, brain, stomach and limbs. She measured the head, the heart and femur. We watched the blood travel correctly through heart and umbilical cord. She checked the spine, the placenta and my cervix. The gal had many years of experience and though she may not be able to spot everything, she would notice if some things were off. I asked if she was allowed to tell me and she said she could, for the most part. If something was seriously wrong, she would get the doctor right away.
Toward the end of the ultrasound, she still hadn't gotten a good profile picture. I assured her that that was less meaningful to me than most of the other shots. Here in my old age I am more concerned that the spine is covered, the cord is functioning, and that all the pieces are parts are where they should be.
The ultrasound doesn't uncover all problems and there are some problems that can come after a completely healthy-looking ultrasound. I knew all this and yet I still hoped and prayed for this child. I will trust in the Lord even more now because I can no longer rely on naivete for protection.
The verdict? All is well, all is well.