Sing it, Neil

She was seventeen.

Okay, maybe eighteen. Nineteen, tops. Plastered in make-up and wearing knee length white leggings, the mysterious young woman followed the consultant as she lead us into her office.

Bizarrely, we were never introduced to this person, who I only imagine, and nervously hope, was an intern shadowing a senior member of staff for the day.

So young looking was contestant number 9 in the 'let's all stare at my wife's genitalia' game show, I started to wonder if ET's impending visual carnal carnival would even be legal.

Probable charges of indecency involving a minor aside, she dropped her lot, and hopped into the stirrups. Up shot the dildo-cam, quickly followed by my blood pressure.

Et voila! A baby.

A baby-shaped baby to boot.

The previously huge yolk sac wasn't identifiable, while the recognisable body shape and large head definitely were. The consultant pointed out the harder to see heart, pumping away steadily.

I didn't appreciate what happened next at the time, but thinking back on it throughout today, it was simply amazing to witness.

It kicked out its leg.

Now, it was of course most probably a twitch, or a spasm, or a jerk, but whatever it was, its disproportionately tiny leg moved right there in front of us. A microscopic human moving around inside it's own microscopic world, of its own microscopic accord.

Little Fitz didn't stop there, the small baby shape hunched a backward 'C shape' in on itself, and opened out again in the few moments we had a window to its day.

Nothing major in the grand scheme of things, but the movement was such, that the crown to rump measurements had to be taken twice, and differed by 5 days in estimated size.

In the 12 days since the last scan, the baby has grown 13 days bigger, from 11mm to a whopping 24.6mm. Measuring now 9 weeks and 2 days, at an official 9 weeks.

It can't go unmentioned that this is the last post where we are being treated for infertility, our care there is finished after today's visit. I'm really quite unsure what I feel about this turning point just yet.

ET stole the limelight for the milestones of posts 100 and 200, and I'm more than happy to let her belly dweller steal it for this, number 300.

Hello again, hello.

Into the wild

In just two days we get to have another look at little Fitz.

Hopefully little Fitz will actually be twice-as-big-as-the-last-time Fitz, we are looking for a whole extra centimetre growth.

It might not seem much to most of us out here, but that is a doubling in size within a week and a half, something even Kirstie Alley would be impressed with.

"Why so many ultrasounds?" I hear you cry, or briefly wonder at least.

We're special. That's why.

We are still under the care of the infertility clinic at the hospital, and they like to check twice that everything looks okay. The second of those checks is Wednesday.

After which, all going well, they gently pick us up in their cupped hands, taking care not to squash us, walk to the open window, and let us fly off on our own.

Pregnant and in the wild, looking for assistance.

As much as we didn't want to be there in the first place, as much as we failed to get any hint of a personal touch from 90% of the people we encountered there, and as much as it will be fantastic to be able to go about a 'normal' pregnancy, it will be a little sad to leave them behind.

No amount of relaxing, holidaying, God, well wishing, or pagan rock fornication worked, nor ever would. They made this happen. Medical professionals & medical procedures that we are very grateful to have had access to.

With our backs to that door, we will have a shed load of things to arrange, from finding and having a first consult with a midwife, to begging our respective employers not to fire us for wanting parental leave, to raising the bloody bed to a health & safety accepted height for any nurse visits.

Trust me, from what I've learned so far, squeezing a little Fitz out of ET's nether regions and into the Netherlands is going to be eventful.

Mr (or Ms) Fitz of science

Some things you just can't do systematically.

Checklists, processes of elimination, or just trying things one by one don't always pay off.

After all the suggestions, all the funny, all the cute, and all the gender neutral names we went through for the womb raider, we still had nothing that clicked.

Yesterday a friend emailed me about the ultrasound and asked did we get to see 'Little Fitz'?.

And there you have it. Little Fitz it is.

For now.

It's cute enough for her liking, weird enough for mine, and accurately descriptive of what the bugger is.

Not to mention stupefyingly obvious. I'm really not the quickest. [Taps self on temple with chewed pencil].

In other news, ET has managed to not puke on any busses, colleagues, or husbands in the last few days, which is a plus. On the down side, we may have to install a television in the bathroom due to her frequent visits.

The fact I want to use the term 'Must See PV' is a sign I'm lacking sleep, and therefore I'm going to suggest she sleeps in the bath. Eliminating the need to get up and disturb me four times a night.

On the other hand, I may allow her to stay in the bed, as she is engaging in human horticulture after all, and I fancy living to see the little fella again next Wednesday at the next ultrasound.

The same day that it will turn a full nine weeks old.