Ultrasound

I went for an ultrasound today. No, I'm not pregnant. They aren't much fun when there isn't a little person you get to see, no tiny hands or feet. I went because my uterus was enlarged the size of a 12 week pregnancy. In the back of my mind I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to go in and have the tech say, "well no wonder your uterus is swollen, there's a baby in there." Now that would have been a delightful surprise.

While lying on the table I thought about the whole procedure and how it affects one's life. How many times does a woman lie on this table hoping beyond hope to see a fluttering heart beat? The elation that comes when life is confirmed. What about the excited mother-to-be who is waiting to find out if she is having a boy or girl? She comes in and in a moment of time her dreams are shattered when it becomes apparent that something is wrong with this new little life. This machine has the power of alleviating fears, or creating new ones. Your life can change in a dramatic way.

For me it did neither. They found a mass. I was told I'd need to come back for further tests and a different ultrasound. Fine.

The part that stirred emotion was when the tech found my ovary. She turned the screen towards me and exclaimed, "Look! This is your left ovary. You are about to ovulate. See that little circle? That is the follicle about to release the egg." She exuded excitement. It was as if she was witnessing the beginning of life. (Truthfully, this is the potential beginning of life, it should be something that brings more than a yawn.) She never found the right ovary, but said it didn't matter since I would be back for another exam.

There's a desire in my heart to hope beyond hope that my little potential beginning of life would become a reality. My home is full, but inside my heart lurks an emptiness. Will that desire disappear, once these little potentials quit bursting forth? Will acceptance of no more babies ever find a place in my heart? I think not.