I saw you last week and it made you real.

Not that you haven’t consumed my every thought, and not that I’m not holding you in my heart. I’m not saying I couldn’t feel you were there.

I certainly have watched my belly expand to fit you, and my pants stretch to accommodate your growth, and every hour I’ve watched my belly shudder with your excitement.

But last week confirmed you were real, laying there sleeping sideways, just beneath the cool blue gel and the handheld transducer of the ultrasound scan.

I’ve done this before, but I had forgotten about your beauty.

Forgotten you would have working kidneys, a bladder and an even, steady heartbeat. I’d forgotten your spine would be artistic perfection. You had wiggling fingers and toes, too, just like they told me you would, and in that moment you were more than just the inner workings of my subconscious.

You are more than that, already containing a story of your own, and in only four full moons more, you will be here to tell it.

Every time I do this it is surreal, this experience of laying with a total stranger on a crunchy hospital examining table. Each time there exists an odd magic.

I looked to my ultrasound technician Bernice in awe for the full 15 minutes, breathing you in and breathing for you. She asked many times if you were my first baby. No, I continued repeating, but your magic is just the same.