My Beating Heart

After a fitful night of sleep filled with vivid, unsettling dreams and losing everything in my stomach in the morning, we made our way to the clinic yesterday. My skin had about made way for me to jump out of it when the waiting room door opened and an ultrasound tech called my name. I'll give you two guesses which one it was, and the first one doesn't count. You got it – the one that did the fateful bad ultrasound back in December. I paused for a second, but then felt an instant, odd calm about it. I think an interesting phenomenon happens with a controlling and superstitious person like me. You work so hard to make everything line up the way you want it, uncluttered by bad juju, but then there comes a point when life is just too much for you to control. You have no choice but to go with it and hope that the coincidence of it all is too absurd – that lightning can't possibly strike twice. Also, she is my favorite tech: kind, patient, no unsolicited comments on how many fibroids I have.

She led us back (to the same exam room, no less) and got, according to my expressed wishes, my favorite nurse to come in with us. I told them, voice shaky and cracking, that I wanted a running commentary as it happened. The probe was in for about two seconds when she announced (with not a small amount of relief on her part, my husband and I both thought), "I see a flicker!" Which was very helpful to hear at that moment, given that mine was about to explode right there on the exam table. The sweetest relief ran through everything I could still feel. She focused in on the heartbeat and measured 120 beats per minute. It was a little tough for me to see the screen and I can hardly remember what it looked like, but it doesn't matter. It's there, and hopefully there will be many more opportunities to get a better look.

I am all too painfully aware that we are not yet out of the woods. There are weeks, and miles, to go, and I cannot from here imagine a point where I might exhale. I also can't imagine that I am the only person in the world who, upon seeing a beating heart inside of her, began to question every instinct she previously had that she might be somehow qualified to be responsible for another human being. But at 6w 3d, our embryo has a recognizable beating heart, and even with the fear, my own heart – and gratitude – can hardly be contained.