12 Weeks

Baby in the womb, looking relaxed, back downwards, snuggles down, hand comes up, little kick, heart beats. Agile & free in all that fluid, not weighed down like babies sometimes are. Turns to get comfy on one side and we ooh and aaah. We can see through our three-inch child. "Uh, I think I just saw the two hemispheres of the baby's brain," I say, pointing, and the tech murmurs in agreement. I make a mental note to take fish oil for neurological development. It all seems so real now.

And yet, for all the awed wondering about this person, this new family member just hanging out and waiting, blissfully unaware of being watched, me silently wondering if this is a familiar being I've known in some other lifetime, or someone totally new to me, and the whole soberness of what's happening, this is actually the most fun I can possibly imagine having. It is insane and romantic. I keep looking at Peaches and laughing out loud. We are completely amazed and holding hands and unwilling to look anywhere other than at the screen or, briefly, at each other. On the bike ride to the hospital I'd gotten somber thinking about about how long after the birth it would be before I could bike with him again, something I love to do. He's like a straight arrow on his bike, so focused, directed, narrow and fast, yellow bag fitted perfectly to his lean body. Something as simple as biking around the neighborhood with my great love will become so hard, it seems.

But we'll get babysitters. We'll bike to the movies. And as soon as I saw that person on the screen, somehow inside me, I knew I had been right the first time: it is time to bring the baby on board. It's someone who's been waiting to join our family and it's really happening. Not too long from now, we'll have someone who bikes with us.

Making photocopies of the screen images later, I see a face very clearly in the high-contrast. It's beautiful.