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The First Scan

May 20, 2013

I want to write about this today even though it actually happened a month ago. Four weeks is a long time when it comes to pregnancy, and it feels like last month is so far in the past. This whole experience is so intensely focused on the future, the next milestone, the next scan or appointment, and the one after that and the one after that. What I’m really thinking about right this minute is the haemotologist’s appointment on Wednesday and the 20-week scan and starting classes at the children’s centre and clearing out the spare room and is Steph managing okay and and and…

So, it feels a little hard to recall every detail of this momentous first encounter with my future child. All of these other memories are swirling around; things are happening to us so fast at the minute that it’s difficult to get a handhold on something if I leave it too late to write about. Which is why I started this blog, I suppose. To remember the bits I would otherwise forget.

Driving to the hospital, waiting to go in, I felt nervous, obviously, but not quite as nervous as Steph. We’re funny like that. Whenever one of us is scared or sad or worried, the other picks them up. We’ve both had our problems with depression and anxiety in the past, but instead of dragging each other down, we always seem able to bring positivity and comfort to the other when it’s needed. It’s a lucky, wonderful thing and one of the main reasons we’re so good for each other. Whether I choose to worry less without realising because I sense she needs that support, or whether it’s just that our ups and downs balance each other naturally, I don’t know. I suspect it’s a little of both. For her, and for me as well,  the prospect of the test for Down’s Syndrome loomed large, as did more general fears of something being seriously wrong, right up to the less rational end of the spectrum; what if we go in and there isn’t even anything in there? Still, only one way to find out…

We go in, and the guy doing the scan is incredibly friendly, one of those people who seems to project an air of competence that I just find baffling, because I can’t imagine ever being this relaxed about anything. He’s got his patter down, you know, the little jokes, the words honed through practice. He’s probably done hundreds, thousands of these things and we’re instantly calmer about the whole process. I sit by the side of the bed where Steph is lying. The room is darker than I thought it would be. I’m definitely holding my breath. A squirt of gel, a couple of seconds finding the right spot and then our baby is up on the screen, lying there with its little arms raised above its head in a strongman pose, and there’s the feet, there’s the head, and I had expected to cry but I don’t. I cried so hard at my own wedding that I was borderline hysterical, but now I just feel filled with that cascading, heart-tugging, floaty feeling of joy that I didn’t dare feel when she came downstairs with that pregnancy test. I can feel myself smiling ridiculously wide. The guy takes some measurements and prints off some pictures for us. We’ve barely been in there 5 minutes. Everything’s fine, he says. From what I can see here today, everything’s fine.

Triple H Pose...

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From → Milestones

2 Comments
  1. Love it! Love to read this from a dads point of view and how your mind is racing a mile a minute! Huge love and blessings to both yourself and Steph!

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