A moment of unreserved joy

The week before Christmas has brought us tidings of great joy, so to speak, with the milestone of our 20 week ultrasound finally arriving. I was so nervous for this scan, hyper-vigilant that something terrible would be revealed. The truth is, I wait for something terrible to be revealed every day of this pregnancy, but on that day, like the few that have passed since, nothing terrible came to pass and instead Leslie and I were relieved and ecstatic to find that our little baby is doing extremely well in there, growing strong and kicking all the expected developmental goals.

The TWO HOURS we spent in the waiting room beforehand were rather anxiety-inducing and we became more and more stressed and irritable wondering how on earth the system could be so disorganised. While we waited I was asked to participate in a research project aimed at predicting pre-eclampsia, so getting blood taken and everything associated with that kept us occupied for about half an hour of that time, and made me feel a bit better from the knowledge that I was helping them stop terrible things from happening to other people.

I don't think I saw much of the baby on the monitor during the scan. I was too busy carefully watching the doctor's face as she measured thigh bones and zoomed into brain sections and highlighted blood flow in and around our baby's heart. She was a really nice doctor, but she so happened to have a face that looked concerned when she was concentrating. She kept frowning and screwing up her face and looking closer at the screen without saying anything, and every time she did I stopped breathing, terrified of what she might have been seeing. I think she was just being very thorough, which is good, but I wish she could have been so with a relaxed smile on her face, which would have put me much more at ease!

Our baby was lying with its little hands crossed one over the other and posed perfectly for all the pictures. I have been feeling lots and lots of movement over the last week and the scan confirmed that our baby is a squirmy one that likes to dance around and make the most of all the space it is currently enjoying.

The scan this week took the place of my usual pre-term labour clinic appointment, and so I was subject to yet another transvaginal ultrasound to check the length of my cervix, which is, thankfully, still very long and closed. That's the way it has to stay during these crucial next few weeks and I desperately wish they'd intervene and stitch it or staple it shut, or put me in traction upside down so the baby can't possibly come out. I know a lot more about the old cervix than I did before, but I still don't trust it. I just hope that this constant surveillance is enough to deter it from making any premature moves.

Our annoyance about being kept waiting for so long soon dissipated as we became increasingly intoxicated by the little tidbits of good news the doctor sent our way. Cleft palate? No. Excellent! Cerebellum present and accounted for? Yippee!

Hands in front of face - not a very clear picture, baby!

We were in two minds about finding out the sex of the baby, well, at least I was. Leslie was pretty keen to find out, and I was too, it's just that I was afraid. I had assumed the baby was a boy all throughout the pregnancy so far. It felt right to be having another son, as that's what I had gotten used to, but I also worried I would be upset if it were a boy. I think I was scared I would start to think this baby was Max returned to me if it were another boy; that it would look exactly like him, be exactly like him. I don't know, it's hard to explain. Apart from those fears, the sex of the baby of course didn't matter to us in the way it seemed to matter to me with Max's pregnancy. It's funny how after you've lost a child all the things you once thought you would have wished for your baby get boiled down into a single, ever-repeating phrase: I just want a baby that's alive. You hope that by saying it enough it might just, possibly, in your wildest dreams, come true.

I just kept thinking how I want this baby, this beautiful, healthy, perfect, longed-for baby to live and to thrive, and to come home with us in good working order. That is my Christmas wish, my wish in a fountain or on a star, my prayer to the gods and heavens (all of them) and even Santa Claus if he got my letter. Hell, I'll wish on anything these days.

In the end we did find out the sex. I decided that we deserved the opportunity to have something tangible to celebrate in this pregnancy which is filled with so much uncertainty and fear. I wanted to have a day of celebration. I wanted to be able to start thinking about this baby as a real person without being afraid I would jinx the whole thing. I want the chance to do what normal pregnant women do - decorate a nursery, buy little toys and books, knit clothes and pick out names. And so, we asked the doctor to secretly write down the sex on a piece of paper that we could look at afterwards in a private moment. Neither of us wanted it blurted out in the room where we couldn't respond in the way we wanted to. After the scan was finished we hurried down to the cafe in the foyer, sat down, and set about opening up the CD case where she'd written on the back of the ultrasound photo. Butterflies were simmering in our stomachs and we decided to count to three before quickly flipping it over. I almost couldn't bare to look. Then, I glanced down, and next to a smiley face drawn in black biro was our revelation, and on reading it our hearts stopped:

We were suddenly having a baby girl...a little daughter...a sister for Max...to love and treasure. And we felt so joyous, so light, and so hopeful that for a little while that day everything else seemed to melt away. What a beautiful, joyous Christmas gift we've been given, and we felt that our darling Max was right there with us.

And so, a healthy baby girl to nurture and grow for what I hope will be the next 20 weeks. We are so delighted to share such a happy piece of news with all of our families and friends.