About a blob of tissue

The day of my very first ultrasound was a blur of nerves and excitement. I was so happy to finally be pregnant, and ecstatic about seeing my baby for the first time. I knew there wouldn't be much to see--I was only seven weeks along, but I had already received plenty of literature and knew what to expect. The doctor dimmed the lights, and my eyes locked on the screen as the squirt of warmed jelly hit my skin. The doppler device began making circles on my stomach as I held my breath, and... silence. My eyes searched the screen frantically, but I couldn't see anything. Nothing. Finally, the doctor's voice cut through the panic, "hmm... there should be..."

I guess I didn't know what to expect, after all.

Flash forward several months to the first ultrasound of my second pregnancy. Same exam room, same doctor. The lights dimmed, just as before, but this time my eyes were trained forward. I couldn't bear to look at the screen, terrified of seeing nothing again. I heard the doctor's voice, "ok, so..." She stopped speaking suddenly, and I felt her hand smack my shoulder. "Are you looking? Look!" I turned, queasy from more than just morning sickness. "There's your baby," she said, pointing at the screen. And there he was.

I could see his little heart beating away. He was so beautiful. "Sorry. I'm trying to measure him, but he's so wiggly," she said.

"He can move?" I asked, surprised. I had only been pregnant for
eight weeks, which meant he had only been growing for six. I watched him, amazed as he turned over.

"Oh yeah," she replied, "he moves a lot. Right now he doesn't like that we are poking him, so he's trying to turn away."

Lovely. Incredible. Exquisite. Breathtaking. I can't put into words that joy and warmth that raced to replace the fear in my heart when I saw him. Truthfully, that image is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen, and I tear up whenever I see an ultrasound image.

I can see why pro-choice health centers avoid performing ultrasounds for pregnant women. Once you see even the earliest evidence of your pregnancy, you have visual proof that your baby is alive, and uniquely formed, preparing to grow their body as we all have. And, once you see that, it's awfully hard to write off an embryo as nothing more than a blob of tissue or a lump of cells. But, if we're being honest, they are.

Yes, babies are a lump of cells. So am I. So are you. Truth: Everyone's body, when broken down, is nothing more than a lump of cells. That is if by lump, you mean expertly designed configuration of cells that grow and progress through the stages of life in their proper order, beginning at conception. In essence, "lump of cells," is a nothing more than a crass euphemism for a human's body.

Here is the thing about babies, both the kind you carry in your body, and the kind you can hold in your arms: they are the most exquisite blobs of cells and tissue in existence. They have never told a lie, or said an unkind word. In fact, they have never made any kind of mistake. No ugliness, only beauty. They are the embodiment of promise, and life, and unknown potential, and joy.

Here is what my sweet little lump of cells looked like
at eight weeks gestation:

 

At ten weeks gestation:

 

At twelve weeks gestation:

At twenty weeks gestation:

At forty weeks:

My Mother's Day was filled with reflection and deep gratitude for the opportunity I have to raise my son. He is the crowning blessing in the life my husband and I are building together. I am aware that it is fundamentally unfair that I should be so blessed with a beautiful, healthy child. It is absolutely unfair--when so many couples struggle against infertility, lose children to illness or accident, and when many people long to marry and begin a family with someone they love. I am forever thankful that I did not compound that inequality with the foolishness and ignorance inherent in looking the opportunity for motherhood straight in the eyes, then shutting them tight and screaming "it's just a blob of tissue!"