I had my first appointment with the nurse midwife last week. The whole family went so we could all hear his/her heartbeat.
She asked the kids if they wanted a brother or sister. Grace had refused to speak when asked her name or age but at this she piped right up with “SISTER!” and Connor quietly said “brother,” though we’ve since discovered he answers with whichever option you give him last.
The midwife showed them a model of what a 12-week baby looks like (though I was 14 weeks at the time). It was so small that Connor could hold the whole thing in his fist without any of it showing.
The kids got to help with the heartbeat finding. Connor (with Daddy’s help) squeezed the goop on my belly. Grace got to hold the microphone thingy. But after several minutes of trying, Grace and the midwife found no heartbeat.
I knew in my heart that the baby was fine, unlike the time during my second pregnancy where we heard no heartbeat and I knew (rightly) that there was no baby. But still, having had that experience, I couldn’t help but be a bit worried. While doing the rest of my exam, with the family waiting outside, the midwife said “Tell me about your miscarriage” and I told her how at 11 weeks we found no heartbeat, then got an ultrasound that confirmed that no baby had ever developed. I have a feeling she suspected as much because she nodded and said “You must be worried.”
We waited in the waiting room for what felt like forever for the ultrasound tech to have time for us. Connor fell asleep in my arms, plastic baby still clutched in his fist. (We did discover and return it before leaving.)
I finally got to go into the ultrasound room in but kids under 6 aren’t allowed in. The second the tech touched the wand to my belly, there was a perfect little baby, moving like crazy. The midwife peeked in to see everything was ok then offered to sit with the kids for a minute so Mark could come in.