What's it gonna be, Mama?

We had our 12 week genetic scan today. I think I’ve been holding my breath for weeks and only this morning did I slowly let it out. One long whooooooooosh. Our risk for Down syndrome, trisomy 13 or trisomy 18 is less than 1 in 10,000 which, as the doctor explained, is the lowest risk we can be assigned. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried leading up to today. I’m a worrier. It’s what I do.

The scan showed us a healthy, thriving baby kicking its little legs and holding its hands together in a prayer position all the while measuring almost a week ahead. We saw its tiny heart beating and it stretch out to accommodate the tech’s desire for a nice crown to rump measurement. At one point both Tim and I thought we spotted another tiny little pee-pee but the tech refused to confirm. She smiled and told us to wait for that special day as it’s coming up sooner than we think. For now, we’ll be grateful for a (hopefully) healthy baby, regardless of gender, though I think I see pale pink and flowers fading farther into the distance.

I feel like I can start recognizing this pregnancy for what it is: completely wanted and totally unexpected. I’m in deep, deep love.

Noah has been riding the train of adorable toddler behavior lately. He’s been accommodating, sweet-tempered (most of the time), and creating the most fun little stories plucked out of his imagination. On Sunday, during our drive home from my parents’ house, he told me we had to be on the lookout for a blue flamingo. There isn’t a blue flamingo on any sign or statue anywhere between my parents’ house and ours. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that I caught on to the “pretend”. I love the “pretend” play and listening to the stories he crafts out of his busy brain.

The preschool nightmare is over, I think. We’ve been waitlisted at the three schools we applied to and are not at all surprised at that outcome (one parochial, one public (but high-risk/low-income kids get first pick), and one private, fancy-schmancy school). It was expected with the ridiculous school competition we face in this city. So we have put our (very, very non-refundable) deposit down at his current school and plan to have him attend in the fall. He loves it there, we love it there, it’s not at all affordable but we know it’s a good place. The director brings him into her office occasionally to “help do the mail” when really she tells me she just wants to hang out with him. That makes my heart swell.

Now I will wrap this up with a visual of what Noah really thinks about being de-throned as our one and only:

Why yes, that IS a saw in his hand.