Yesterday, my husband and I went to our first prenatal care appointment. I was very excited about this appointment because aside from the long list of pregnancy symptoms I'm dealing with, I was hoping for some additional, medical confirmation that, yes, there's a baby growing inside. Of course there is. But there's something that feels safe about the proof that only a healthcare provider can offer. Like when I did two home pregnancy tests and followed up with a doctor-administered urine test the next day. It just feels more real when a doc acknowledges it.
I was hoping that we'd get to experience our first ultrasound on the day of, but alas, we'll have to wait about three more weeks for that. The next best thing was hearing the baby's heartbeat. The nurse midwife was hesitant to try to listen for it since at nine weeks there's no guarantee that it can be heard. She was worried that the absence of a heartbeat would concern us. I had a hunch though that we might be able to hear it since a previous physician who saw me just a few weeks ago told me that my uterus was positioned very close to the front of my body (hence, the early arrival of the baby bump). I didn't say anything, but the nurse midwife mentioned the same thing. She then very generously obliged, and offered to try to take a listen. I promised not to worry if we couldn't hear it (was this a lie? perhaps...I'm only human).
Minutes later, she came in with some goo and a grey wand connected to a handheld speaker. I squealed! I had to lay so still. At one point, we heard my heartbeat, and then as she moved to my right side, she slowed the wand, held still over a couple spots, and then we heard it. It was so amazing and wonderful. A quick paced beat, loud over the speaker, so fast and healthy sounding. Proof of the baby! I heard little's heartbeat! I stared at my husband and beamed from ear to ear. And then, I HAD to ask: You only heard one in there, right?
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