Did you know you can hold your breath for 4 and a half hours? You didn’t? Neither did I. But apparently you can, because that’s what it felt like the morning of the 12-week ultrasound.
TLH (Tax Law Husband) and I woke up early to get ready for our 8AM appointment. We tried to go about our normal routine, but conversation was forced, and our collective nervousness permeated through the entire apartment. I thanked myself over my morning coffee (the doctor said it was fine, it makes me so happy, so I HAVE NO SHAME) for making the appointment as early as I could. I can’t imagine waiting an entire morning for this.
An approximation of what I looked like eating my breakfast that morning.
We got in the car and on the way over I think both of us had flashbacks of the “last time” we had this appointment 6 months ago and we were blindsided by an ultrasound nurse going, “uh oh”, rushing out of the room, and then after 4 more ultrasounds and a rush up to Maternal-Fetal Medicine being told our baby was “not compatible with life.” We had already lost a baby in this pregnancy – I think bad news at the 12-week mark…well I can’t even think about how we would have handled the news.
Our appointment came up fast, the ultrasound tech took a ton of images, explained every measurement and how the baby looked “perfect”.
Still no breathing from either of us.
No anencephaly. All measurements look “spectacular.” The doctor came in and confirmed, explained everything over again. Both the tech and the doctor were spectacular and eased our fears with smiles on their faces.
When they left TLH and I looked at each other, embraced….and cried a little. This was our secret big mile marker. This was where everything went wrong last time. We are officially one step closer.
We can breathe again.
You know what’s awesome? Breathing. Breathing is the best.