By the time we headed for our first scan I was becoming increasingly comfortable with strangers talking about my wife’s uterus and touching her tummy in what would be – in any other circumstances – a horribly unacceptable invasion of privacy.
Fear had given way to nervous excitement as we walked from the car park to the hospital. I even mentioned to my wife how ‘cool’ it would if we had twins or triplets ‘in there’. She wasn’t so sure and I hadn’t really thought it through.
Once in the waiting room we dutifully paid for our tokens to get a photo of the little one. A surprising amount of people didn’t, and looked a different kind of terrified to me; more desperate and less excited.
The scan revealed that we were having one baby with two arms, two legs, one heart and one head.
Perfect.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it looking like a baby took me by surprise. We stared, transfixed by the baby on the screen as it wiggled around. It was amazing and emotional. Everything felt so ‘real’ and awesome (literally), I was blown away by the perfect design of it all. Beautiful.
Scan photo in hand, we headed ‘home’. Things were progressing for us on that front too. We’d found a flat that we loved and I’d had an interview for an actual job. In a leap of faith/madness we’d even put some money down to reserve the flat. It all depended on the job; no job, no flat. We had to wait a week.
