We got our ultra-sound today. The one where they measure it’s head to see if it’s ok.
Seeing the little guy up on the monitor was pretty amazing. We heard its heart beat and watched it squirm around for awhile before it went to sleep. The nurse had to shake it to try to get it to roll over for the rest of the measurements but it wasn’t easily awakened (lest you had any doubts that it was Charles’ sprog. That and the nose which the nurse commented was unusually large for its age).
The nurse started out very sparky and talkative saying things like ‘there’s its heart’ and ‘yes, that looks good’ but as she began to measure the head, she was much quieter and I started to worry. I finally asked it it was ok, but she told us we’d have to wait a few minutes to talk to the doctor.
As we waited in the front room (which only had chairs arranged in pairs) we browsed the pamphlets that talked in great detail about all the things that could go wrong. It was another moment of cross-roads -knowing we could easily have to face a tough path. It was a very long ten minutes before we were called into the doctor’s office.
She sat across the desk from us and explained that they actually give you a score based on three things: your age (I’m old, so that didn’t bode well), the amount of fluid at the base of the fetus’ head, and your blood test. Turns out I may be old but I have the blood of a 25 year old, baby. There are worse things to be proud of, I’m sure.
So she gave us the all good. I could barely touch the ground on the way out of the building. I hadn’t realize how worried I had been until I almost started crying from relief sitting across the table from the doctor.