I never knew I could love a little melted-looking face so much.
You guys, that’s our baby.
That’s the little nose I’m going to be nuzzling against mine;
the little forehead we’re going to kiss to sleep;
the little hands we’re going to high five and hold.
Laying there in the ultrasound room, looking up at the screen on the wall, it’s so beautifully weird to connect that the grainy, black-and-white world coming into focus above you is all happening mere inches below your fingertips.
That you’re looking at your baby’s whole entire world, as it is, right that second.
Husband’s hand is interlaced with mine, ampersand to ampersand, and we’re looking back & forth, from the screen to each other, with these gigantic cheese grins, like, DID YOU SEE THAT
It’s like we’re watching the greatest movie in the whole entire world, and it’s called CHECK OUT OUR HUMAN WE MADE.
I mean, look at this kid.
That’s our sweet little sir, folded entirely in half—
feet over his head, face looking for all the world like it’s pressed nose-first against the doppler.
It was his favorite trick to show us during the ultrasound, particularly the part where he’d sloooooooowly bring his face up close, all like,
HI IT’S ME AGAIN
CAN YOU SEE ME
DID YOU SEE MY SWEET SPINE I GREW
MOM I HEARD YOU SAY I LOOKED LIKE THE CRYPTKEEPER JUST THEN, RUDE
I can’t believe we’re already at 22 weeks, just past halfway to meeting this rad little human.
He’s kicking up a tiny baby storm these days, and it’s nothing at all like what I thought it’d feel like.
Everyone was all, it feels like flutters! and it’s like little popcorn pops! but tiny homeboy just does NOT.
When he kicks, it’s a miniaturized feeling of when the bass drum of a marching band booms by, and the sound waves scatter-bounce around inside your rib cage.
The first time we felt him move—
the night before the ultrasound, actually—
it was this tiny, solid foot-punch that came out of nowhere, enough to startle my hand to meet it.
(I’m nothing if not eloquent. See: prior reactions to miracle of life.)
I immediately grabbed husband’s hand and moved it to the spot my hand had just jumped to, and there it was again—
our little dude, raving away, just as strong as before… this little slice of magic in our otherwise ordinary Wednesday night.
He’s deliberate already, this tiny sparkler of ours.
I still can’t believe he picked us to be his.