The storm before the calm

Tomorrow is Gummy Bear's big ultrasound and, hopefully, the day I get to hear the words, "Your baby is perfect healthy" - with those words being truly accurate.

Ryan's ultrasound couldn't have been a better day for us - one that I cherish to this very moment. Mike and I playfully kept guessing if Ryan was a boy or girl, and it only took a moment after the ultrasound tech placed the transducer on my belly to see that he was indeed a little boy. And, what a beautiful little boy he was.

I wish so much that I could once again feel the innocence and joy I felt leading up to Ryan's big reveal, but I just can't. I have yet to feel distinct movement from this little one (we're sporting an anterior placenta this time around), so I'm somewhat disconnected from him or her. Plus, I physically feel so different this time than with Ryan, that if I didn't have the reassurance of the doppler, I'd swear I wasn't even pregnant, because I feel so normal. Just plump.

The holidays did a mighty fine job of preoccupying my mind so I didn't have time to conjure up every imaginable bad scenario out there. But now that the dust has settled and life is back to normal, every possible bad outcome is frighteningly vivid in my head. And I know that these thoughts are illogical, but that doesn't prevent them from popping up. I'm scared. I'm scared for us and scared for our little miracle baby.

I'm also terrified of history repeating itself - to go through a seemingly flawless appointment, only to be faced with a horrible reality in four months. Could life be that cruel? Absolutely. We all know it can be, so I can't pretend that I don't know what could happen, so I have to be prepared in case the other shoe really does drop. Tomorrow's appointment is Part 1 of 2, with Part 2 taking place on Tuesday in the form of a fetal echocardiogram. That's the appointment that will really tell us what we're dealing with, if anything. If we make it through that appointment unscathed ... well, let's get through it first.

All I can do is hope and pray that what I'm experiencing now is the worst of it, and after tomorrow's and Tuesday's appointments have passed, I'll be able to feel a sense of calm and be confident that we have received the most accurate diagnosis possible, and that this little one has been spared Ryan's fate.

Deep breaths commencing.