I feel the butterflies as we pull up to the hospital entrance except they aren't nerves, they are the small kicks of the life growing inside me. Our creation. Our miracle. The future.
I should be nervous, previous scans suggested abnormalities but you, as always reassured me. Even if there was a growth on our sons spine it wasn't affecting his development in any other way.
The consultant had agreed. All subsequent scans had shown that the baby was strong and developing fine. That I was healthy. That although they wanted to keep an eye on things they were happy that this was one of those things, a blip. The tail bone that usually vanishes in the first few weeks gestation hadn't in our case and at the worst they would operate after our son was born. An inconvenience, a small scar for baby and a fun icebreaker for years to come. They had the technology.
They're running late as always. The radio playing to distract the waiting victims of the sonographer from just how late and how much they really need a wee.
I try not to listen to the news. Its too depressing. Makes me wonder why any sane being would bring a new life into this world. The chaos. The fighting. Violence. Poverty. War. Humanity could only go so much longer before it imploded and one faction invaded another for a few extra square miles of land.
But of course we are young and idealistic. Our child will make a difference. He wont just be another mouth draining the planets resources. He will be a catalist for change. An inspiration. But all parents think that don't they?
On the couch. The cold gel. The pressing on my over full bladder. You just have to chose this moment to tell another one of your stupid jokes that make me laugh like a drain. Fuck I need the loo.
Measurements, muttering, concerned looks. Our usual scanner has company. This isn't going to be quick.
You take my hand and kiss it, and instantly everything's better. I can lie here for hours with the idiots squashing. Well maybe not. But I'm not being beaten by them.
'I'm not sure how to put this' said the consultant trying not to show the concern he was barely hiding 'but there's some more abnormalities.'
You squeeze my hand before the panic sets in. Of course there are more growths.
'I'm sorry to say its the skull. I cant say how much of an impact this might have on your sons quality of life at this time....'
But we knew there would be. We knew before the first scan. The Antichrist would have the start of his horns and tail in utero just like his father holding my hand, but paranoid first time parents want the best prenatal care for their child. And you pitiful humans give it even if hes here to destroy your meaningless existence.