My first ultrasound was scheduled for Monday. Before the doctor's visit, I stood puking over my bathroom sink. I'm nauseous every day, but I hadn't vomited in days and I chalked this up to nerves. I'm already huge, and I was fearing twins or more. Plus, I hadn't yet seen what was actually inside there, and I was afraid it was some huge misshapen monster-like creature, already fully grown and sporting head-to-toe fur.
I was wrong.
There's a little baby in there. About 4 centimeters long, the ultrasound lady said. I saw them clearly: the head, the body, the two arms waving and the two legs kicking as if he or she were doing the backstroke. It was all at once amazing and terrifying. It's our baby. And we heard the heartbeat. Nice and strong. About 175 beats per minute. That's all we know about the health of it for now.
I have an appointment with a genetic specialist next Monday who will begin a round of bloodlettings to see if there's a high(er) risk for certain genetic diseases. This is another part of it all that terrifies me. I don't want to obsess, and for the most part I don't. But sometimes I have these strange doubts, these strange, horrible feelings that I could never produce anything healthy.
But I know I shouldn't think that way. It's just the negative part of my brain gaining the upper hand.