Twelve week ultrasound

I looked. The sonographer looked. I looked some more. But there is definitely only one baby in there. And no puppies.

I don’t know who is more relieved, me, my husband because he promised me a nanny if it was twins or my father who also promised me a nanny if it was twins. I’m relieved but also just maybe a tad disappointed. I mean twins would have been something, although I think the idea of twins is perhaps more wonderful than the practicality of twins when I have a three year old and a just turned two year old. So I’m a little disappointed, but also more than a little relieved.

For the first time I saw my little baby kicking, sucking its thumb and it’s little heart beating wildly. It’s the third time I’ve had an ultrasound and the novelty never wears off. I knew I was pregnant but each time I always have this doubt in the back of my mind that I might be imagining the whole thing (including the vomiting – now that would take some imagining). I imagine turning up at the ultrasound clinic and the sonographer saying “nope, nothing in there, go home and stop wasting my time”.

The risk of chromosomal abnormalities is very low for my age which is also a relief. The sonographer said she could pretty much tell the sex at twelve weeks but had a policy of not telling patients until the twenty week ultrasound when she was more sure. How crap is that? But look just to the right of the little legs sticking in the air: if that’s not a boy then I’ll eat my hat. A little boy. And with an erection too. His father will be so proud. (Of course it might be the umbilical cord but a daddy can pretend.)

So I’ll be having a baby, just after Christmas. Possibly three boys under four. I think I need a strong gin and tonic but just when I need it most I can’t have one.