I guess it’s probably an odd skill for a layman like myself to be able to simply glance at the cross section of a head of a twenty-four week old foetus and tell if the ventricles are normal sized or large, but I can. It’s a skill I’d prefer to be ignorant of, the same way I’m still not sure what the red and blue colours on an ultrasound are. Blood flow? Pressure indicators? Something else? In any case, the colours have never been as important to me as the ventricles.
So the end result was I knew everything was well even before the doctor confirmed it with actual words of “Twin one’s head is perfectly normal”. And I took what felt like my first clean breath in two and a half years.
My boy is going to be normal.
It’s good news day, people. Background stress is way down. Happiness is way up.
Let me quickly add here that Miss Minus Three Months is also perfect. Twenty-four weeks of pregnancy is something to celebrate in any case. It’s the unofficial ‘viable’ week. Every week from now on is a week in the bank. Genetic tests clear: check. No signs of enlarged ventricles at 24 weeks: check.
Colour me chuffed.
One day I’ll discuss a post about whether Mr Minus Three Months is a replacement for Alfred (short answer: yes) but such belly navel gazing is best left for a more somber day than today. Today is for celebrating. Today is for looking out and seeing the forest. Today is for cuddling giggling daughters.
Hope you have a great day, people. And yeah, that wasn’t in sarcasm font.