love.

As we waited, watching the blank screen buzz around, an image bounced into focus: our baby! Our child! I studied it’s perfect head, it’s adorable nose, and soaked up it’s tiny hands. A tear trickled down my face. “Baby! It’s our baby!” It is distinctly human. No longer a jelly bean, nor a little blob, but a human—with ten tiny toes, ten tiny fingers, and a thumb, that it was presently sucking upon. I looked down at my little baby bump, which, at this point, is still being mistaken more often as a food belly verses a pregnant tummy. In fact, besides the nausea and few extra pounds my mind could not grasp the reality of a living, active, existing, person dwelling within me. I kept trying to wrap my mind around it. I tried to stare harder at the sonogram, as if to let it sink in, but instead, tears rained down all the more. We sat there enthralled, in awe, and in delight. We watched it drink, we watched it’s reflexes act, and then the reaction of them which caused him/her to move and kick. And we fell in love. How can you love someone you’ve never met? How can you be so attached to someone you’ve never held?