The First of Many

Dear BT (Baby Tarhall), 

Today you gave your mom and dad their first official scare of parenting. It definitely won’t be the last time that happens, so thanks for trying to ease us into this reality of parenthood right from the get go. 

We had our second doctor’s appointment today (11w 3d along), which is filled with pretty standard stuff: you get your vitals checked, pee in a cup, and get to hear the baby’s (your) heartbeat. Routine, unexciting, just your run of the mill check up. 

You, apparently, had other ideas. Hidden away in your nice cozy home, the midwife couldn’t find your heartbeat using the doppler. We weren’t totally surprised knowing that it can be hard to pick up on the doppler this early, so we weren’t too concerned when she wheeled in an old school ultrasound system. A few minutes went by and she couldn’t find anything on the ultrasound. 

At this point, she said she was going to go get one of the OBs. She did say that she’s not as skilled with the ultrasound this early, that you could just be hard to find buried down in my pelvis, and that everything could be absolutely fine, but also prepared us for a difficult reality: we may have a missed miscarriage on our hands. 

BT, here’s something you should know about your boring old mom: I'm practical and analytical, and can be that way to a fault. I have told myself repeatedly that most pregnancies are healthy, no news is good news, and, should we miscarry, it would be for a reason related to your health and viability in a way that would ultimately be better for you. 

The reality, though, is that confronting that possible reality is scary. Your dad and I held hands while we waited for the doctor to come in, and told each other how much we love each other. The doctor came in, had me scoot down a bit, and worked her magic. All of a sudden, there you were on the screen, wiggling around and looking more like a baby and less like a chicken nugget (yes, you looked like a chicken nugget four weeks ago). 

What did your parents do then? Start crying. There was some laughing, of course, but mostly there was just a lot of relief. To be honest, I think that went for everyone in that room, Ilana and Dr. Keller included, not just us.

We’ve loved you since the moment we found out you were coming. We love you more every single day, and can’t wait to see you continue to grow. 

Thanks for the mini heart attack. How about taking it easy on your mom and dad next time we have a check up, okay? 

Love, Mo