Heartbeat

I'll confess that part of my reservations about this pregnancy have come from the fact that I'm ridiculously comfortable. There has been very little nausea, certainly not anything I would define as "morning sickness." (There...I stuttered and spelled morning like "mourning" and I think that is key.) I've been terrified that while the tests said yes, and the blood work came back positive and I've gone up two and half bra sizes in four weeks, when we got to today, this magical appointment where they show you what the seeds of your husband's love have sewn, that there would be no heartbeat. Nothing. Just a blob that would soon be dispelled, either by nature or by force, and I deeply didn't want to go through that, again. Not with the anniversary of Mazzy's death in a matter of days. (December 13th for those who are counting. And I count.)

Luckily for me, because I know from experience that this isn't always so, I was able to see my Tadpole, all properly measuring and there, in the bit right where it should be, was the flutter, the barely decipherable movement that will one day be a whole heart.

For the most part I'm calm, calmer than I can remember being in my adult life. There is peace and happiness in my home and my heart, but my imagination is a wicked thing and I know that when I sleep my dreams are filled with fears that shouldn't be there. No, that is untrue. They should be there, but they are unwelcome fears.

I'm shoring up for a long pregnancy, grateful that I have a supportive husband and a long Momcation. (Oh, this magnificent time away from her...I could go on for days. so perfect.)