I realize that it can be difficult to actually see the baby in many of these ultrasound photos. I was fortunate enough to be able to attend this one so I was able to watch as little Marcus (pictured above) squirmed and kicked and pretty much hid every time we got a good view. Having seen this type of thing before (with all three of my children) I wasn’t overly excited about going this morning. I was glad to, but honestly, I was thinking, “Hey, I’ve been there and done that. No big deal.” I wasn’t expecting to be overwhelmed…but I was.
Maybe it’s because it has been so long since I got to watch the ultrasound as my daughter (she turns ten tomorrow) squiggled around. I sat there and just watched silently, looking for the familiar landmarks in the black and gray landscape on the screen. There, look: his heart (which was beating at a healthy 148 bpm), his kidneys, his nose, his eyes, and finally, his little fingers curling into a fist and then opening back up again. I know the word miracle gets tossed around a lot. I know that theologians like to debate what it takes to truly qualify something as a miracle. I know that my little grandson, regardless of the proper definition, is a miracle.
He still has a month before he is due but I can already see things in his personality. Things like the way he put his arm up across his face every time the sensor was pressed a little too tightly. It was almost as if he was saying, “Hey lady, cut that out.” Every time a new angle was tried, he immediately turned his back or threw up that arm again. I could just hear his saying, “You want a picture? Take one of this.” I think the thing that got me the most was when they were checking out his heart. I could see it up there on the screen, beating away, as his squirmed and wiggled.
I could watch a thousand more ultrasounds and can honestly say that it will never cease to amaze me, this thing God gave us called life.