We just had our 20-week ultrasound, and everything looks good.

The RELIEF is incredible!

I wasn’t that nervous going into it – nervous, but not extraordinarily so. But there was a moment when the tech, who had been chatty while she gave us the guided tour of my uterus & our baby inside it (“look, baby is sucking the thumb!”), got quiet and started focusing carefully on the screen. She was looking at the heart. And my heart started beating as fast as the baby’s. I saw that road open up before me, that other path, the one I so do not want to go onto ever again. I looked away, to Mikhail, and just started thinking how badly I want to stay on this path, the healthy pregnancy/healthy baby one, the one that ends in October with a gorgeously alien-looking baby in my arms.

Then the tech got her pictures and moved on, and I noticed that sometimes her face just did that, got kind of serious, and I should breathe and not read into the poor woman’s every expression.

And then she said the doctor would come in to see us now. Well. I was trying to keep myself calm, while at the same time the path, the bad path, it loomed up in front of me. I asked why the doctor needed to come in – did everything look okay? And she said everything looked normal; he just liked to do a quick check. And that’s what he did, talking constantly in a somewhat-soothing tone of voice. There’s the head, there’s the profile, the spine, the kidneys, the heart…

And in the end, fine, everything looks fine.

They gave us some pictures of the outrageously cute feet, the beautiful little profile. We left. I still feel like I am calming down from the experience, like I can’t quite believe yet that it is done and all is fine. Like a part of me is still looking back at the intersection of those two paths, not realizing that the fear would be quite that acute and sudden.

I really want to go for a swim and just stroke it out under water — the lingering sensation of that moment, contrasted with the overall relief that makes me want to lie down and take a nap. It’s hard, this getting attached when you’ve had your heart broken.

Oh, and we chose to not find out the sex. We’re going to wait and be surprised. Seep ourselves in the mystery of the unknown for 20 more weeks. Taking bets!