I'm scared.

There. I said it. In fact, I'm really, really scared.

My first ultrasound is Thursday morning. Which seemed so very far away when it was scheduled two weeks ago. Then all of a sudden, I'm talking to a friend today and I say something about tomorrow being Wednesday. Then it hits me. If tomorrow is Wednesday, then tomorrow I can say, "tomorrow is my ultrasound".
Still with me? If not, you may exit slowly on your left.

Now I have tried really hard to be positive about everything. Power of positive thinking, right? Keep telling myself that I have absolutely no reason to believe that things are less than stellar in my ute. None at all. And it's true. But still, I find myself terrified. That we'll get bad news, that there won't be a heartbeat, that my doctor will look at me with a solemn gaze and whisper, "I'm sorry."

And you know what? I'm angry that I'm so scared. I'm angry that these are the thoughts that flood my mind less than 2 days away from this big event.
I want to be excited. I want to be imagening the blinking blob on the ultrasound screen. Or the look on Mr. J's face as he discreetly wipes away a tear. I want THOSE thoughts.

Not the ones I have. The crazy part is that aside from these insane thoughts, I feel really good about everything. My gut instinct is that all is well. And yet, still I cannot shake this fear. I cannot make it go away. Or even take a backseat to the excitement, anticipation, and gratitude.

But I will keep trying. Keep telling myself the things I have been chanting for two weeks.
That I'm going to have a happy, healthy baby.
With ten fingers.
Ten toes.
And my nose. Fingers crossed.

All IS well.