It hasn’t quite sunk in yet.
We have received so many lovely messages, Jo has bought me flowers, my mother has already crocheted a baby blanket, it is all so wonderful… but part of me still feels as if it isn’t real.
In spite of my disbelief, pregnancy symptoms have started rolling over me like a speeding train. My sense of smell is suddenly at bloodhound level. I need to breathe past the people on the tram, their scents of smoke, coffee breath, sweat, feet, uuugh. I walk past a bin on a street with a rotting banana in it and start gagging. I have to hold my breath when opening the fridge.
You’d think all of that would leave little doubt that there really is a little baby Sunshine growing… but still I am apprehensive for that important first scan.
We had this scan from our IVF clinic available to us for free, so we decided to take the Eurostar over so we could have a first look at this little one.
It’s a great plan, but the brightness of our testing days, of announcing the news, of sitting outside on a little square and eating ice cream in the sun is no longer. The weather has changed into a storm, with roofs blowing off, roads closed, and the whole train network shut down. I make it to London after a journey of seven hours that Sunday.
But it means that Jo and I get to walk to the clinic, through rain and waves of nausea and dizziness, one last time. Once more through those familiar doors, only this time it’s with (hopefully) a baby on board.
I lay down on the examination table, the consultant starts the scan, and we look expectantly at the screen.
It’s there immediately, luckily.
A big round black spot. And then inside of the black spot… something grey is moving!
Both Jo and I have watched enough scans throughout the whole IVF process to know what everything looks like on a screen, we have seen my uterus, ovaries, follicles, fluid, all of it. But we never have seen a baby.
One grey spot contracts rhythmically, and I can hear the smile in the consultant’s voice. “A strong heartbeat.”
She zooms in some more, turns the sound on, and there it is, loud and clear. “Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom.” This is our baby’s heart! So tiny, yet such a big, familiar sound.
It touches me more than I thought it would.
The rest of the appointment goes by in a daze. It’s definitely just the one baby, which we are grateful for (as cute as twins are, I think one is exactly the right number for us to handle at this time!)
We receive earnest congratulations from everyone at the ABC clinic. They calculate my official due date as November 3rd 2019, and the consultant jokes it’ll be a Scorpio. The paperwork is finished, and then we are good to go, graduated from the clinic, graduated from ‘trying’. I find it hard to focus on it though, the thought keeps on ringing…
My body has two hearts beating now. In sync, or as echoes of one another.
It is most definitely me and someone else in here.
It must be real!