What it looks like

A boy. A son. A new picture in my mind, of what our family will look like in August. 

With Sarah, it was easy to imagine her sharing a room with her sister, Rachel. Just two years apart, my girls.

This boy will be four years younger than Rachel. And seven years younger than his big brother. Perhaps it's a good thing I've never gotten around to painting any of the bedrooms. At some point, there will be a shuffle. But I'm not sure what that will look like, yet.

The ultrasound was as good as it gets. A kind tech, a sassy doctor. I was annoyed to be kept waiting for our appointment, but that was my nerves more than anything else. The heartbeat was immediately found, a round head and little dawdling to discover a penis. Apparently my jokes of Baby On Board (Bob) and cravings for Frank's Red Hot Sauce (hello Bobby Frank!) were right on target. And the doctor found nothing remarkable. Boring and normal, other than an awesome thumbs-up that our son flashed on screen. 

Jonah does this eyebrow raising, nose wiggling face of joy when he is excited. And when we handed him an envelope later that afternoon, revealing the sex of the new baby, it was epic. Both he and Rachel were so sure that they were having another sister. But there was no disappointment on their faces. Only joy and hope. It's a scene I'm going to playing over and over in my head, for months to come,

Brave, not Frozen

We're heading off to our level 2 ultrasound in an hour. The AFP test came back as remarkably boring and didn't point to any increased risk for open spina bifida, Down Syndrome or Trisomy 21. But it rarely catches closed spina bifida, which is what happened with Sarah. A level 2 ultrasound may give us a better look - or maybe not. 

I'm trying to remember to breathe. And be present. And to focus on the part where I know there should be an answer: is she a girl or is he a boy? I'm trying to imagine Jonah's face as I tell him, later today. Will Rachel freak out if she has another brother? Will she dress him in tiaras and insist in painting his toes? 

Bravery, for me isn't pretending everything is okay. It's putting one foot in front of the other and continuing to move forward, remembering that no one knows what is ahead of them. 

Are we there yet?

Almost halfway there. Except I'm not really sure where "there" is and if I'll ever get there.

I took my other pregnancies for granted. That if I made it through the first 12 weeks, that I'd have a sweet babe in my arms in another 30-32 weeks. I never worried about much related to the actual pregnancy. I was tired, cranky and achy. But that's normal. 

This time I worry if there will be a baby at the end. One who looks me, one who will eventually recognize me. One who will cry and learn to smile.

One who will live and grow up.

This pregnancy reminds me that all of these moments should never be taken for granted. It's both a blessing and a curse. To appreciate what I have, without the promise or guarantee of ever getting "there."