After a stressful and restless sleep filled with horribly vivid nightmares of unbelievably awful things my subconscious imagined would go wrong at our doctor's appointment the next morning, it was time to get my act together for another ultrasound. Patrick was so sweet and went out of his way before work to switch the cars in the driveway, so I wouldn't have to take the stinky car (still recovering from the mildew accident), a very nice surprise that put an easy smile on my face.
We didn't have to sit for long. Apparently the earlier the appointment, the less behind the office is. But as soon as we were greeted by the tech who'd be performing our ultrasound, my stomach immediately turned. Not that I'd expect her to remember, but she was the tech who was doing our 12 week ultrasound a year before and walked out of the room without saying a word when she confirmed the baby no longer had a heartbeat. She left us there hanging with the most awful news we'd ever received.
I tried my hardest to block out any negative associative thoughts as we exited the waiting room and moved closer to another moment of truth, but it's always easier to remember the bad, isn't it?
"Sorry the gel isn't warmed yet. This is going to be cold, " she said before going in for the view.
Oh great, she just keeps getting better......NOT.
Thankfully, all my worries were momentarily put to ease when we saw the heartbeat at a strong 186bpm and the baby doing a little dance, measuring exactly perfect to the date. As she was taking pictures, I asked her to put a "Go Bears" caption for the screen shot and it almost looked as if little Cotton threw up his/her tiny Sic' Em Claw.
If it was up to me, I'd get an ultrasound every week, but since it isn't, 3 weeks will just have to mosey on by so we can have another comparison picture to add to the frig. I can't wait to actually hear the heart beat for the first time.
It's amazing how fast they grow, isn't it?
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