Momnesia

Smile For the Camera

I had my first sonogram yesterday.

It was a surreal experience. I know that I was supposed to feel something spectacular: entry into an international sisterhood of mothers; a great connection with the universe; participation in a ritual that has continued through the ages. But I was so overwhelmed with medical histories, financial paperwork, an argument with Scott, fear of that the doctor would discover something wrong, and discomfort at being naked in front of so many people, that all I could think was: Could someone please get this huge, cold, wet thing out of my vagina? Somebody? Anybody? Hellooooo?

But then, a soft, rapid rhythm over the machine’s speakers. The baby’s heartbeat. The baby is the size of a pea, and it has a heartbeat? “Yes!” said the sonogram operator, pointing to a smudge on the screen. “Right there!”

And there is is. Although the rest of the picture looks like the horsehead nebula, one tiny little portion is pulsating. “That’s it’s little heart?” I said, tears sliding down my cheeks. “Yep,” the lady said, grinning at the screen. I touched the screen. “Hey, peanut! Hey, monkey!”