"Everything seems healthy. All the bones seem to be in place. See that? That's the leg bone. Here's the hand. All in place. These four are the bones of the middle finger. All five fingers are formed."
"Wow. How big is it?" I ask.
"About six centimeters." I look quizzically at Thomas. With his thumb and index finger, he makes a gesture. "It's about this big," indicating a gap of about three inches.
"Oh. Look, it's emptying its bladder," says my Frauenarzt. I find myself fascinated, not at all disgusted, that someone is peeing in my insides.
It hits me that something that is not completely a part of me is inside me. This thing, wriggling, kicking. It has its own thoughts. It is not me, yet a part of me. I wonder if it reacts to my thoughts.
"I can't get the baby in the right position for the screening. Hopefully we could get it to lie on its back?"
With two fingers, I gently thump on my belly. It moves, and we have our money shot.
"Ah, perfect." he says.
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