All clear, for now

The scan went well. Everything is where it should be, in appropriate numbers and sizes. Blood flow is good, the cord is good. Can't get the size on that thing, but it didn't seem like there were any knots on it for now. Placenta is on the front but "far enough" away from the cervix. The cervix is 3.2-3.5. We get to look again at everything in about a month.

We got a glance of the nose and the mouth at one point, as in the flesh rather than the bones. He has his brother's nose, I am pretty sure. JD says he didn't catch it, but he was also busy explaining to Monkey what was where. The tech didn't print that one, so I don't have proof. But I guess this is just one more mindfuck to steel myself for. He was also not a big fan of that probe. The tech couldn't feel it, but I sure could. Too bad, kid. The mean parents and doctors have plans to subject you to that particular indignity many more times.

Apparently, while I was in the bathroom, Monkey informed the tech that she had a brother before, but he died, and she hopes this one doesn't die. Some of the shots, like the butt up, knees bent shot we did get a print of amused her to no end. Little feet and little fingers made her happy. The skeletor face shot was a little scary, she said. She kept leaning in and touching my face, ever so gently. We came separately-- logistics and all-- and when she walked in with JD, I could tell she was a little scared and nervous. She recognized the place after they got off the elevators (from the one time she had been there before, for A's anatomical scan), and from then on, though she had moments of giggling, it was pretty clear she was bracing. Damn, a six year old, bracing. This shit sucks, can I tell you? She even asked the tech whether "he is ok," and JD told her the lady can't tell us, it's the doctor's job.

We all seemed to hold our breaths through the scans. Dr. Best was running the ultrasound show today, so he came in and did some looking himself, after the tech. He introduced himself to Monkey, who hasn't met him before, but once he got the probe, he was concentrating so hard I was getting worried something was wrong. There was no customary banter. I like my banter, it reassures me. In its absence I was running through all the bad things one can see on the ultrasound in my head, trying to decide whether what I was seeing was normal. Heart-- pretty sure there are four chambers, and it doesn't look lopsided. Brain-- looks pretty even, no holes, spine-- seems closed at the bottom. What else, what else?

And then he spoke, and said "looks great." Monkey apparently didn't think that was specific enough, because she decided to ask her own question: "Is he ok?" Only she asked so softly, Dr. Best couldn't hear. JD asked for his attention, though, and when the answer was "Yes, he is ok," you could see Monkey transform. You could see her transform into a kid again.

The transformation was quick, immediate even. And that is what I am choosing to concentrate on tonight. Yes, she is aware of things six year olds should not know. Yes, she is deeply affected. But, if things are ok, she can still exhale it all in one breath. She is still a kid. It helps to remember that.