"Baby, baby, can't you hear my heartbeat?"

At the second appointment, we sat in the waiting room, quiet with the excitement of hearing the heartbeat.  A nurse walked us back to the room, put me on the scale, took a urine sample, then sat me on the table.  My husband and I talked quietly, waiting for the little knock of our kind doctor.  He entered the room with a fetal doppler device, which is like a microphone and speaker.  He put some goo on my guts and placed the microphone over where the baby is nesting.  He moved the microphone around, everyone sat quiet.  A minute passed, I started to sweat.  He confirmed my dates, told me that because of my body size he should be able to hear it, and kept looking.  

A heartbeat.  For a second I felt relief, but then I recognized the ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump from the speaker as the same rhythm in my chest.  

He tried again for a few minutes and I felt my eyes welling up.  Where was my little hummingbird's heart?

He handed me some towels to clean myself up and sat down in the office chair next to me.  "We are going to schedule an ultra-sound for you.  In truth, we should have been able to hear the heartbeat today, but if the dates are off at all, it could keep us from hearing it.  Your ultrasound may be good or it may be bad.  One if four pregnancies end in a miscarriage."  

He put his hand on my arm, "I hope it is good."

At the check out desk, the woman called two locations to try and get an ultra-sound scheduled for us, but the first available appointment was 48 hours away.  

In the car, there was a lot of crying.  It was so heartbreaking to even think that I may not get to meet this child.  I had no symptoms to make me think that perhaps this pregnancy was ending, but the fear was there.  I thought of those I know who had that terrible fear become reality, I cried for them.  

The next two days were trying, but those that knew my secret (at this point we had made no announcement), carried me though.  God kept me calm and my husband kept me sane.

Two days later we entered a small, dim office.  We took a seat and waited our turn.  Knowing that our questions would be answered soon, we enjoyed easy conversation for the first time in a while.  The technician called my name and we went to the room.  Within two minutes, I was on the table, the goo was squirted, and the machine was on.

And there (s)he was.  Heartbeat and all.