I heard the baby’s heartbeat again yesterday. Without the proper context, you probably don’t realize just how much it meant to me.

For the last several days, I had a foreboding feeling about this pregnancy. I haven’t felt much movement, but I did think I was feeling small occasional kicks and gentle, indistinct movement. I also seemed to be “popping out” last week – going from just a little thick around the waist to Obviously Pregnant.

But then on Saturday I realized that my belly seemed unusually still and quiet. At 18 weeks, this concerned me a little. I started looking for movement, sure that I would find it.

By Sunday my concerns were becoming more serious. I hadn’t talked about it yet to hubby so I didn’t want to say anything to our friends at church, but I felt awkward every time somebody asked how I was feeling. The more I tried to feel movement – any movement! – the more sure I became that I couldn’t feel a thing. And was my belly actually getting smaller?

I finally mentioned it to hubby and we agreed to call my midwife in the morning. I had an appointment for Thursday and was hoping to move it to Tuesday. Hubby was home all day Monday, and I still felt no movement. Ann heard my concerns and immediately agreed to squeeze me in on the following day. I was relieved that I would have an answer soon, but the stillness in my belly seemed too powerful to ignore and I was already quietly grieving for this baby.

Yesterday morning as I drove the 75 miles to my midwife’s office, my head was filled with questions. “Will there be a heartbeat?” was not even on my list. I was asking myself what it would be like to deliver at 4 months (I have had early miscarriages and a full term stillbirth, but never in the second trimester.) I was wondering if we could find a nice little wooden chest at Hobby Lobby to serve as a coffin. We could bury the baby in the family cemetery next to our stillborn daughter Sarah. What would we name the baby, and would the gender be apparent to our untrained eyes at this stage? I was wondering if we would need to notify the county coroner after the delivery, and would the midwife need to be present or would it be safe to deliver alone unattended? I composed the blog post in my head: the title would be from Job, The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  I was sad, but content.  We are all His.

When I arrived a bit early, I sat down to read and wait, but the midwife was ready for me. She hurried through the preliminary parts of the checkup: blood pressure, urine test, etc. Then I laid down and she rubbed cold jelly on my belly. I was composed, thinking I knew what to expect. I had heard the deafening silence of a baby’s still heart once before. As she got ready, she warned me that the baby at 18 weeks has lots of room to move and hide; I shouldn’t jump to conclusions if she didn’t find a heartbeat immediately.

She laid the cold head of the stethoscope on my belly and we instantly heard the most beautiful sound imaginable: the pitter patter of a tiny heart. My composure melted and I burst into tears of surprise and relief, thanking God for entrusting this child to us for a little longer.

And that was what I  did on the anniversary of Roe v. Wade this year.  I celebrated an unborn life.

Today the baby and I have been together for 17 weeks – that’s 4 months down!

I am still feeling just faint, occasional kicks, mostly in the evening after an imprudent cup of coffee and some dessert.

My nausea is almost entirely gone if I am careful to eat regularly. I still have a lot of lingering first-trimester fatigue.

Although I am seriously hesitant to make a firm guess, I can’t shake the feeling that this baby is a boy. My morning sickness was milder than with the girls and was gone sooner. I am very tired. And I really want another boy to run around with The Boy. I know that’s just wishful thinking, but consider this:

With all of our girls, I was ready to have girls. I was perfectly content to have a houseful of girls and couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a boy. A boy sounded like a small, foreign sort of creature that would require an entirely new set of skills that I didn’t possess. Only once did I feel that a pregnancy was somewhat different and suspect that it might be a boy. I was quietly relieved when a new little girl appeared.

When friends and family had boys, I politely admired them but never really longed for one of my own. I only wished for a boy in the most theoretical sort of way: I knew that hubby really wanted a son and I understood that a man needs a son, so I wished for him to have one. Of course, I realized that I would get a son as part of the deal if God should grant that request of ours. I was OK with that and assumed that maternal instinct would kick in at the appropriate time. In the meantime, boys were weird and noisy and I was thoroughly content to keep bearing girls.

When my sister’s boy was born in June, he was just a boy. But a few months later we got together again, and something was different. I looked at my sister’s boy, and he was a little man – a small image of his father, with his dad’s eyes and a manly little jaw. He was precious. He won my heart and for the first time ever, I thought to myself, “I do want a boy! I want a little man-child.”

As it turned out, I was already pregnant and didn’t yet know it. Apparently those maternal instincts work quickly. I had a quiet suspicion throughout the pregnancy that this might – just might – be that elusive boy we had been waiting for. 8 1/2 months later, we had our little man-child and I greeted him without a moment’s doubt or hesitation.