Autobiography, Baby, Book, Choice mother, Choosing single motherhood, Donor conception, Early Pregnancy Unit, Female empowerment, Knock yourself up, Memoir, Pregnancy, Single mother by choice, ultrasound, Women's rights, Writer
I can’t take my eyes off the ultrasound monitor. That tiny, indeterminate black dot has grown. In the last few days, it has increased from a 3mm speck to an unambiguous 8mm elliptical blotch. It resembles a miniature universe – fitting for the child who will one day become my universe.
“I can see the yolk,” says the sonographer (a different woman to last time and one with whom I feel much more confident). “There’s no foetal pole yet but they don’t always develop by this stage.”
My heart halves its pace as the relief sinks in. My ovaries also seem on the mend, slightly less swollen than at the previous scan.
My friend and her adorable four-year-old son are waiting for me in the Early Pregnancy Unit waiting room. She hugs me when I tell her the good news and the little boy puts down his crayons for long enough to cheer at the fact I am happy.
The consultant confirms that the EPU is satisfied with the scans and no longer worried. She books me in for a final scan on 5th February to make sure the embryo is developing.
“There’s no sign of the other embryo. There’s a small possibility it’s still hiding but I’m nearly 100% certain that it’s not ectopic.”
“Is there anything I should or shouldn’t be doing?”
“Not really. Just avoid heavy exercise.”
Not a problem!