It’s sounds idiotic when you say it out loud, but so much of pregnancy, having a child, is nothing like you imagined from books and movies. The first sonogram, for instance, isn’t done on a Vaseline-smeared belly eagerly looking for fingers and toes. That comes later. It comes now, as a matter of fact. And it isn’t a quick snapshot. It’s a paparazzi affair that takes 25 minutes, photographing from every conceivable angle, measuring everything that can be discerned. The technician is part photog, part judo master—manipulating the belly (and the little one inside) for the best shots. And they say the photographer should never touch the model.
It’s as exciting from Mom and Dad as it appears in the movies, but in a different way. That little heartbeat has been with us for months, so the sense of life-- the reality of the change to come has been ever present. But the blurry, mysterious images on the screen convey a glimpse of the future, a first contact via a strange language of abstract shapes and barely recognizable features. We're worlds apart, and we've been signaling our presence to each other through rubs, kicks, and soft voices. But until now we've been speaking across a galaxy. And this brings us closer.
Another unexpected reality: having a child is work: from the medications to the constant doctor’s visits to the classes… and reading up on the side. It seems impossible to get anything else done, which I guess is a good prelude to parenthood itself. How will I get anything done once he/she is here?