I threw up dinner, then calmed myself into a sleep by watching Miracle on 34th Street (the new one, though I like them both). I love Christmas anything, anytime of year. It comforts me, the songs and colors, the believing. The spirit. I didn’t stay asleep long. I threw up again, then ate a plum, then the alarm clock sounded. I’m running on fumes today. Still, I made it to our "first screen test" on time. I felt like ass and wanted to cry before we even walked in. It’s just scary. I can’t help it. I’m nervous and protective, and I worry.
It was our first ultrasound that wasn’t intravaginal (I’m 13 weeks and 1 day along). They greased up my belly with jelly, flipped off the lights, and began to roll across the small gourd that is now my stomach with a rolling paddle (that incidentally looks like something that should come with a Playdough set for making pizza pies). The Suitor held my hand, and we watched. First we only saw one baby, which always scares me because I think, "why aren’t they showing us the other one?" I wish they would show us both, then zoom in on one. It was "baby B," and it was asleep. "Why is this one always sleeping?" I asked the technician.
"I can wake it," she said. "Come on, rise and shine." She then pressed repeatedly on the gup, until it stirred a bit, then put it’s thumb into it’s mouth. This is the lazy baby, or the "calm baby," definitely The Suitor’s child.
"Are you sure it’s okay?"
"Yes, yes. Would you like to hear the heartbeat?" Wow. The screen went dark, and the room flooded with the sound of our baby’s heart.
"Wow, you can separate them like that? Only listen to one?" The Suitor chimed in.
Then we watched "baby A," my wild child, partying in mom’s house. Kicking, waving, dancing, sucking it’s thumb.
"So you two are responsible for keeping me up all night, huh?"
Zen Baby B
Then they wiped me up, and I threw up Rice Krispies. This is usually how my day goes anyway. See, but last time we went and saw the kids wave at us, it was exciting. This time, it was scary. I don’t know why. I worry more now. I want to make sure they’re both okay. And the doctor was rolling over my ovaries with force. I wanted it to be over. I was scared. It’s all real now. I want them to be healthy, to know. I want the doctor to say "perfect," "normal," and "all good." And they did, this time. They measured the fluid behind their necks and pricked my finger. We’ll know our percentage of having a child with down syndrome in a few days. It’s just a percentage. Nothing is for certain. That’s what’s so hard about all this… for any of us, I guess. There are no guarantees in life. I’m giddy, but I’m also tired, worried, and shock of shocks, a bit emotional today. I’m crawling back into bed and watching more Christmas movies.