The procedure went very well, and I was somewhat assured. A week went by, and I was distracted from worry about the baby by worry about everything else. A week and a half after the procedure, two weeks after the initial call, we got the call that everything was normal, and I am carrying a healthy boy.
During this awful time, I felt the first recognizable movements, which is the most remarkable feeling, and my favorite part of pregnancy. It gave me so much hope and joy. Each day they grow stronger and stronger, and C. can feel them when he touches my belly. I can even sometimes see a little bulge appear and disappear. He is stirring, he is active, and in the New Year, he will be born.
I was frightened about the prospect of bringing a baby into what seems to be a terminally fucked up world, but I remind myself that my grandparents were born during progroms and the Great War, my parents during World War II, and I was conceived during the Vietnam draft, as my parents cuddled in Philadelphia, not knowing whether my father would have to go or not. I hope he will bring light to the world. I know he will bring it to mine.