I am so terrified to walk into the ultrasound office that my legs are shaking. My worst fear, which is the same fear I will have at every ultrasound, is that the baby will have disappeared and all this will have been some horrible and cruel joke.
They call my name and Russell and I walk down the hall to the ultrasound room. I have a different technician this time, Cecilia. I will see Cecilia several more times over the next few months. I like her; she is kind and makes me feel comfortable with the procedure. The room is already dark as she tells me to go into the bathroom and remove my clothes from the waist down. I can hear her and Russell talking as I take off my pants. He's telling her how nervous I am. Tears once more spring to my eyes and I swipe them away, annoyed that I can't seem to stop crying.
I walk out of the room with the big white sheet wrapped about my waist and make my way slowly to the exam table. It feels like The Green Mile. I'm so afraid of what she will see. Or worse, what she won't.
I hold my breath as the image comes onto the screen. Russell is standing beside me holding my hand, but all I feel is numb. And terrified. And then...
There is it, the image of our baby. She is no longer a yolk sac, but a tiny growing blob of a human being! Russell and I are both crying.
"You're about 7 or 8 weeks along," Cecilia tells us. "Everything looks just like it should."
I feel like I'm floating as we cross the hall to the the doctor's office. My doctor pokes her head out (but I notice she doesn't really look at me) out after a long wait to tell us that she's running behind because she is without a nurse. L has given birth. I'm so excited for her, and feel a twinge of hope. Women do this every day. They give birth and everything is okay. I've been so focused on the negative and the worry that something will go wrong, but what if everything actually goes right?
When it's finally my turn to be seen, everyone in the office comes into the exam room and gives me a hug, including my doctor. She said she couldn't look at me earlier, fearing the worst regarding the ultrasound. She knew how much I wanted this.
She refers me to a high risk OB, one that she promises I will love. And sends me on my way with well-wishes and more hugs.
Is this really it? Are we really having a baby?
We decide to celebrate with Indian food. I think I'm still in shock, but I'm so unbelievably happy I could burst.
And then, just as I'm taking a bit of my masala dosa, my mother calls with the news that my stepfather has fallen off the roof of their second home an hour and a half away. We don't know what the extent of his injuries are, but the ambulance is on the way. We will later find out that he had a broken right hip and ankle, and a crushed left tibia, as well as compartmental syndrome. He will need several surgeries and many months of rehab. It feels like a crushing blow to our happy news, and we are once more wracked with worry and uncertainty.
No comments:
Post a Comment