Today was a day I was quite anxious about. It was my first "try to hear the heartbeat" appointment with my midwife. I'm only nine weeks along, and so I knew that it was a little early to be hearing a heartbeat. As I lay on the little table with my wonderful midwife searching for the wooshy-washy sound I longed to hear I did have some strong memories come back of another appointment, doing the same thing, and not hearing it. I think both Margy and I were trying to not freak out a little when we couldn't find the heartbeat. She said that normally with anyone else she would just say to not worry about it and come back next week. I'm so grateful that she's a compassionate woman, and is very concious of how I might be feeling. She quickly had us run over to their little ultrasound machine (also the next step in our dreadful appointment that day many months ago) and we had a peek. This time, we found a tiny little blob on the screen, with a beautifully beating heart. Margy and I happily embraced and breathed a sigh of relief. Of course there is a long road ahead, but we're sure off to a good start. How I loved seeing that tiny beating heart. Troy and I are both quite emotional with joy and remembering.
Later, at home, I was curled up on the bed, and somehow found it possible to feel both wretched and beautiful at the same time. Wretched - the "morning" sickness is really kicking in; Beautiful - there is a beating heart inside of me! The kids were playing really happily in the living room and spied me lying on the bed. It was actually very charming the way they instantly wanted to be close to me. Of course, a little space from time to time would also be nice, but really, I appreciate my childrens' happiness to be at my side. They picked up their whole operation and just moved it onto the bed with me.
Of course, the peaceful playing didn't last long. Soon enough they were crawling all over me and trying to have a jumping war. I had to make an exit. But it was sweet while it lasted. How grateful I am, sicky sick and all.