Week twenty-two

There was a moment during today’s early morning ultrasound (big thanks to the Mid-South Maternal Fetal Medicine for squeezing us in at such a late notice) when I felt the bulk of worry lift off me. I squeezed Ray’s hands as the tech, who was so nice and so thorough, went organ by organ, noting how everything looked great, all of it right on track in size and function. That bright bowel the Flinn Clinic had flagged twice was nowhere to be seen (what’s unclear is if they overestimated it or if it resolved itself; I feel like they overestimated it because they never turned the monitor down to compare bone vs. bowel), which automatically greatly reduced the chances of us having to worry about genetic or other abnormalities.

It seems it’s just that pesky two-vessel cord we’ve got to worry about, but Dr. Bors-Koefoed came in and essentially told us what I’d already read online: That it’s rare but not that rare (it’s common enough that they refer to it as a variant rather than an abnormality), and that it just means I’ll need to pop in for more frequent ultrasounds and growth checks than the average pregnant lady would. I can handle that. A nice surprise was that when I asked if it’s true that two-vessel babies don’t handle labor as well, the doctor shook his head and let me know that my homebirth plan is still viable, as long as there’s no growth restriction or related complications leading up to the due date. I honestly was expecting to be told I was considered high-risk, and that I’d need to report to the hospital for labor or a scheduled C-section no matter what.

Mom came up for the appointment, and my midwife Amy was there too. It was a packed room but I really enjoyed getting to hear the good news along with them. My mom cried when she saw the little beating heart appear on the screen, and she kept saying, “That’s my grandson! What a miracle!” A pretty special moment, right there.

I can’t stop looking at the 3D pictures of his little face. I guess that’s an added perk of having a mandatory level-two ultrasound. I see Ray’s forehead and my mouth in there, maybe, but what a trip to get a glimpse of my little man’s face already. He’s beautiful. I’m clearly biased, but that is a good-lookin’ kid.

He stayed pretty balled up during the entire visit, his knees tucked close to his chest in a display of flexibility that he certainly did not inherit from me. He is now the size of a spaghetti squash and he weighs one pound. One pound! He’s still sitting breech, tap dancing on my cervix when he feels fancy, and his face is tucked up behind the placenta, which made getting good straight-on 3D shots kind of tough. He better get over his camera-shyness in a hurry.

There was one point when the tech was jiggling my belly around to get him to stretch out so she could measure his spine, and he punched her! I mean walloped the exact spot where the wand was. I felt it and so did the tech. My baby don’t take no shit.

Yesterday I was lying on the couch with my hand on the left side of my belly, and I felt a kick that made my hand jump. That was the first time I’ve been able to feel movement from the outside. I called Ray over and he stood there for a while, trying to will baby boy to kick hard again, but he never did. He will, I know. I shouldn’t rush the organ-crushing part of this process.

We’ve gotten so much wonderful support throughout these past few tense weeks. We’re ever so grateful, and getting more and more excited about what’s to come.