the dating scan

This is the final secret pregnancy post that I wrote privately

before letting you all know our exciting news.

I'm already shocked by how much quicker this pregnancy seems to be flying by.

I guess I have the advantage of having found out I was pregnant a couple of weeks later this time around,

but still,

it's hard to believe that I'm not far of finishing my first trimester

and it all seems to have happened in a heartbeat.

Today was my dating scan appointment

which I think is one of those appointments which really marks the exciting bit of pregnancy.

The bit when you can tell everyone your news

and start to get excited about bringing a life into the world.

Last time around I was terrified in the run up to my dating scan.

I couldn't wait to see my baby for the first time

but I was also waiting....

...for them to burst my bubble

and tell me I had imagined the whole thing.

"No, I'm afraid there is no baby Lucy."

It played in my head for weeks leading up to it.

This time around I've been more chilled out,

a bit more confident I guess.

My body has been giving me more "signs" this time around

and I guess there is a little bit of 'been there, done that' about it.

Until 4.30am this morning

when I woke up in a cold sweat

and all those same doubts from last time.

We've been so lucky,

surely we don't deserve to be this lucky?

I've only done one test, perhaps it was wrong?

What if something is wrong with the baby?

The doubts were later coming

but they came with a vengeance.

I went through the motions this morning

in a little cloud of my own worry.

I got the little guy up and packed his bag to go to Nanny's.

I showered, I dressed, I did my hair.

I looked at my belly in the mirror and wondered if I was imagining

that there was a little bump starting to show already.

As we arrived at the hospital

I was pleasantly distracted for a bit

by my desperate need for the toilet

and the stress of finding a parking space

and locating where we needed to go.

Once in the waiting room,

my husband tried to make small talk

until I not-too-politely told him to stop talking.

He laughed.

And I realised that is exactly what I said last time.

When I'm worried I like to be alone in my thoughts

and this was one of those occasions.

They called us through,

I laid on the bed,

the whole time still in a bubble.

I answered the sonographer's quick questions,

I followed the instructions to lift up my top, roll down my trouser and expose my tummy.

My husband said it looked like it had popped out overnight

but I didn't allow myself to listen.

And then the machine was on my tummy,

I held my breath. . .

"Yes, I can definitely see one little baby there with it's heart beating away."

I reckon I grinned like a loon for the rest of the appointment.

Last time, with little man

I had to stand up and dance around half way through

because he was so chilled out that he didn't want to move and show them all the things they need to check for.

This time around, my little Splodge

would not stay still.

Splodge wriggled the entire time.

So much so that the sonographer pleaded for them to stay still 

so that she could actually measure the crown to rump length

and give us an idea when to expect the little wrigglepot.

It was,

in a word,

magical.

And being back at the hospital where we had the little guy

was pretty special too.

We were back on the same ward,

and my husband showed me the corridor they had wheeled me down

when I'd arrived by ambulance.

And I think it's made our minds up about going back there this time around.

It was actually strangely exciting to be back in a place

where something so wonderful happened to us.

And where something wonderful will happen again in September.