And then, just as more an afterthought, she checked his heartbeat. It was one of the last things on her list. Suddenly the joking and the laughing stopped. She got very quiet and kept saying "hmmm." After a few tries she said "well, he's gotta be a calm little guy. This heart rate is a little bit lower than what we're used to seeing, let me call your doctor."
And left two wide-eyed parents in the ultrasound room. We had no idea what was going on, what to expect. Its probably nothing, right? Perhaps he's just sleeping or something.
The tech quietly came back in and tried to reassure us. "Its probably nothing, but your dr wants you to do another ultrasound at the perinatologist, just to double check. They can schedule you in two days, does that work for you?"
I didn't know what to expect. I guess I never did expect what happened. I cried, a lot. I started making a small blanket in case he came really early. In my mind, I was thinking that it was just the beginning of us losing him. That his heart had almost stopped, and he was dying inside of me. Every movement, (or lack thereof) I was analyzing over and over. It was such a long two days until our next ultrasound. I had no idea that the entire pregnancy would be like that!
And now, its been a year. As I was rocking my little guy right before bed, I just had to sit in wonder. This little boy, the one I cried over, yearned for, worried, fretted, sobbed, rejoiced... so perfect. So happy. So normal. Just looking at him, you'd never know that he's kept alive and healthy by a machine. But one thing you'd notice is how loved and adored he is.
Thank heaven for little boys, is right. Thank heaven for my little Parker.