I could feel a heaviness in my chest as we were led into the ultrasound tech's office, a heaviness that only got worse as she began the ultrasound. Don't misunderstand--the ultrasound tech was really nice, but both of us were busy trying to read her demeanor and body language as to what she was seeing on the screen. She studied her screen in near silence, and it was brutal. What was probably two or three minutes of silence felt like an hour. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, but I refused to look at the monitor, even though I'm confident I wouldn't know what I was looking at anyway (all those ultrasound pictures look the same to me).
I just held on to Amanda and kept my head down, waiting for someone to say something.
Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime (exacerbated by the fact that I wasn't breathing), the ultrasound tech spoke: "Baby has a heart rate of 129!"
I burst into tears. Not the tiny tears that well up in the corners of your eyes, but full-on lip shaking, nostril flaring, hyperventilating sobbing--which no doubt looks ridiculous coming from a grown-ass man. I didn't care. Our baby was still alive. Our baby was still alive with an exceptional heartbeat. Our baby was still alive with an exceptional heartbeat and was growing normally. For people who've never experienced a loss, this small feat may sound silly, but those who have know that a simple thing like a heartbeat really is a miracle.
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| Sheer Joy |
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| Amanda swears the baby is waving here. Can you see it?? |
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