The worst mistake I almost made
Beware the real consequences of your imaginary fears
“Was that a wave?”
It was January 2014, a few minutes into my twelve-week ultrasound, and I was staring at the tiny body growing inside me. I could see it from the side, ten times larger on screen than in real life. As it moved, the technician pointed to various shapes and shadows, identifying them as much more. There was the heart. There, the bottom of a foot. I nodded and played along, seeing nothing but head, belly and blackness. Suddenly, clear as day, a little arm shot out. A fuzzy white line ending at a blob of hand. It tilted up towards the head for a split second, then back to its original position. Then it was gone, quick as it had come.
I was 38. Old enough for healthcare practitioners to treat pregnancy as a dangerous condition. Old enough for every consultation to include the words “because of your age.” Because of your age, there’s a higher risk of complications. Because of your age, you should consider taking these tests. The nurse handed me a stack of trifold brochures to look over. All the covers featured glowing women (not of my age) smiling down at their growing bellies calmly and confidently. Everything was going to be a-okay. And they knew it.
