...came back fine. Negative for neural tube defects, risk of chromosomal issues very low. My little A seems to be doing fine. I'm doing fine. Actually, I feel great. I always thought (back in the days when I thought I could go off the pill and *zippo* fall pregnant) that I would hate pregnancy, but I don't. At all. It's added a new dimension to my feelings about ART.
Frankly, title of my blog notwithstanding, I never gave much thought to pregnancy. itself. Sure, if you go the traditional route, you have to go through pregnancy to get the desired result. The desired result was what I wanted and why I endured the sado-masochism that is IVF. I always assumed that, well, pregnancy would suck, but it was worth it. I was wrong. There is a magic and a mystery and a joy to pregnancy I never could have imagined. I'm not sure if it's because it was so difficult to get to this point or because I truly came to believe that it wouldn't happen, but either way or neither way, I'm in awe of this process.
I wonder if my ultrasound addiction fueled this? Seeing my Little A stick his hand in his mouth and cross his little frog legs (tasty side of remoulade anyone?) and drape his little arm over his eyes just slayed me. I never expected to love carrying around this little, not yet a full beer in weight, soon to be human quite so much. I mean, we haven't really met or exchanged pleasantries or hugs or handshakes, but I would leap tall buildings for him. I would slay dragons to keep him safe. How very strange it all is. Very strange indeed.
We got our first two baby gifts the other day. One was a little onesie with ducks and a matching bib. So very tiny. My husband commented that "it wasn't very masculine." I reminded him that they didn't issue guns and camo until at least 18 months. Sigh. The other gift was a blue blanket, so incredibly soft with a satin edge. A little blue blanket for my Little A. At some point I will tell him about my blue blanket and Old King Cole blanket one day. I wonder where they are?