Had a great appointment on Friday. Great in the sense that it was the most boring appointment in the history of the world, because everything is totally normal, and oh, I gained another pregnancy day because I measured 7w0d exactly and this was my official dating ultrasound. So my due date is now June 21st, which is of course at least two weeks later than I will actually give birth, but either way. Heartbeat, yolk sac, good positioning, closed cervix… yada, yada, yada.
This appointment has finally made this all more real to me, that I am actually pregnant, that I might actually stay pregnant, that the odds are ever-increasing that NewBaby will live to do battle with all of my second trimester risks and fears, a task I hope we are both up to. That I am more than likely having surgery *on my cervix* in less than 7 weeks. Four days before Christmas.
And this: I already love this baby so, so much. This is what I was too reluctant to do last time, too miserable to do last time, to realize that even at this early date, when NewBaby is no more than a bundle of cells and a blob on an ultrasound whose “head” shape is really just a yolk sac, I love the baby. I want to protect it. I want to bring it home with us, in 31 weeks. Knowing what it’s like not to get to do that just makes me more aware of how much I already want that.
I didn’t realize, last time. The love for this tiny being who never really got to live was almost a shock, because how could it be this strong? But it can, and it is, because even now, this is our baby.
Please let us bring this one home.