Our eyes were fixed on the black screen. When she moved the wand, the black gave way to flickering swaths of white, like milky ways arching through space. I squinted my eyes, trying to make something out of the undefined fuzz morphing in front of us. Then, suddenly a hint of a recognizable image appeared before us. In a split second, an image of the empty uterus flashed before my eyes. No, it can't be... And it wasn't. As I lurched forward, the uterus filled with a murky image - something, rather than nothing.
- Here is the little guy, said Dr. C, with her finger on the screen.
- Here, see him? He's upside down. Here's the head. See the heartbeat?
- Right here. See it?
As we looked, there was the smallest flicker of light moving in and out. And as I saw the little thing move, my body heaved, my chest filled with a surge of emotions, and tears sprang to my eyes. It was relief that set in, relief that said thank goodness, it's alive. Relief against the fear that I hadn't realized had taken front row seat.
Still, I'm not ready to believe just yet, even as I hold the photo of the ultrasound in my hands. My hopes are tempered, my enthusiasm curbed, my excitement muted. I'll wait until the 13th week, until a week after the last little one left me.