"Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out."
December 2nd, 2010. The 8 week appointment had arrived and needless to say both Amanda and I were both quite anxious and very nervous. We arrived at the hospital and made our way up to the third floor. On the elevator we rode with a young lady on crutches wearing street clothes. Amanda and I are both very nosy when it comes to other people and what they are doing so I'm sure Amanda was just as busy as I was trying to figure out where this girl was going and what her business was that morning. She too got off on the third floor and all of us went into suite 325, the hospital's Women's Center. When we entered into the lobby I lost site of the girl on crutches and focused more on the our own task.
Amanda checked in and within moments we were escorted back to the patient rooms where Amanda and I were seated and told that we'd be helped momentarily. To our surprise, the first person we met with was the young girl on crutches. She's a midwife and was there simply to talk with us about the information we'd given them to date and to just make sure that we didn't have any pressing questions or concerns. We were made aware that no ultrasound was scheduled for that day but one could be performed if we were concerned about it. We were. We really wanted to simply make sure that the little guy was okay so that we can stop wondering.
I excused myself while they did some lady tests on Amanda and was welcomed back once the ultrasound room was all set for us. Within seconds of being in that room I started flashing back to the only other time we were in a room like this awaiting the same exact test. Amanda laying on her back in a gown, doctors surrounding us, and the only light in the room was from the ultrasound monitor. Then, a clear difference appeared: a little shape on the monitor. Our baby. Added to that, our baby's heartbeat. Strong and steady.
I've said before that one thing I'll never forget is the look on Amanda's face at the moment we realized that we'd miscarried. I'll also never forget the look on her face at the moment we saw an image of our first child. It was sheer elation and joy coupled with releif and amazement.
