12 Weeks and Change

We met with our OB again yesterday, and I have decided that I really like him. He told us we'd take a quick listen to the heartbeat, and Mo said, "No pics today?" Dr. Head Honcho smiled and said, "Sure, we can take a quick peek." I know most docs aren't that liberal with their ultrasounds, and I am tickled that we got another glimpse of our little monkey. 

First, we pulled out the Doppler, and as I lay there for what seemed like eternity, hearing nothing, my heart began to sink. 

And then. 

Whumpa, whumpa, whumpa, whump. 

"There it is," I whispered, my relief tangible in the small room. Mo squeezed my hand and we both just sat there, frozen in time, for several minutes.  

After that, as promised, we got another look at the little one. Head, arms, legs, even tiny little feet were visible. It actually looked like a baby in there. There was a little disconnect as I looked at the screen, because, really, how could that be inside of me? I'm the perpetual infertile. I see follicles, and empty spaces, and on a few special occasions a small, featureless, blob of potential - but never an actual baby. I'm still quite shocked that we've made it this far. 

I pause a moment as I write this, wishing I could describe these feelings of elation mixed with disbelief, of pure joy tinged with black fear. But then I realize - you guys already know. You have walked this path before me, balancing carefully on this tightrope that is Pregnancy-After-Infertility.  Some of you long to be here with me, even knowing that the climb is steep, and there is no safety net if you fall. I am reminded over and over again of the many hands that lifted me up, the gentle voices that continued to encourage me each time my feet began to slip or the destination seemed impossibly far. You already know my heart, my sisters of broken dreams. You understand my heartache and my happiness, even if I find myself unable to put it into words. 

Tonight I am grateful for so many things. A husband whose strength I'll never match, a marriage that's grown stronger despite the flames, and this potential life, this longed-for child-to-be that continues to grow despite his or her mother's neuroses. But most of all, I'm grateful for all of you, in a way I could never explain, nor do I have to.

Because you? You get it. And I am so, so, lucky that you do.