If you know me from my "real" blog, you know that I'm not the praying type. I don't believe in one all-powerful almighty "thing." I don't know what I believe, as I've explained before. I believe in PEOPLE. I believe in family. I believe in the interaction of beings.
Yet, at times of high stress, anxiety, or emotional pain, I still occasionally find myself lying in bed praying. Praying to something. To what? No idea, but the picture in my head isn't of the slightly-scary bearded man that we learned about in CCD. I can't articulate who (or what) I'm praying to. It's just a whispered plea to the universe. Irrational, but comforting nonetheless. And that's where I found myself last night. Please, please, please, let there be something in there. And again in the waiting room, since they were running late and it was 10:30 before I was called back. Still again scooted on the end of the ultrasound table - at first she popped up a gigantic black hole of nothingness and said "well, there's your uterus!" and my heart stopped. And then she moved a fraction of a millimeter, and there it was.
One perfect bean, measuring exactly as expected, with a heart beating at 150BPM. Life is good.