My wife—not we, but she—is pregnant.

I can now formally and publicly announce that my wife is 12½ weeks pregnant. I have been so eager to blog about it but have tried hard (and succeeded) to heed the advice of not being too public before 12 weeks. We had already told much of our families, some close friends and quite a few people here at Westcott House, partly because we wanted some people to be 'in the loop' should anything go wrong.

It has been quite a scary time, I think. Every time that Toni rang me when I wasn't expecting a call, I assumed the worst and started to panic. I have never prayed so fervently about a single thing, which I found interesting. Now I am so relieved that we have got to the twelve week watershed. I feel that I can relax quite a lot.

I have been thinking about a few things. One of them is the realisation that we are all absolutely helpless before the fundamental issues of life and death. Nothing we can do can guarantee that our child will survive. Of course we can do things that will help the healthy growth of our baby but we cannot really assume anything. That reality really came home to me during these last twelve weeks. All life comes from God: that 'spark' (for want of a better word) that sets all the organs, lumps of meat that they are, in motion. This has made me more committed to continually praying for the life of our baby and giving thanks for each day that I wake up alive.

Going to the hospital for the scan was a nerve-racking experience. Would the baby be ok? Would they find some problem? I really didn't know what to expect or how I would react. I rather thought that I would be overcome with emotion, and perhaps a little (joyfully) tearful. However, when we went into the room for the scan, the stenographer put the scanner thing on Toni's abdomen and immediately a crystal-clear image of our leanbh beag [pron. lya-noo bag—Irish for 'little child'—the nickname I seem to have adopted for our baby] appeared on our screen. Legs and arms moving seemingly excitedly. Was he/she aware of what was going on? Was he/she as excited to be seen as we were to see? I guess we will never know. When the image appeared, I simply took in a huge gasp of air—the kind that a leanbh beag makes when something unexpected but immensely exciting or pleasurable happens.

Now, I look at this image that I have of our leanbh beag and stare in wonder at the life that my wife and I together have long willed, and God created and thus far sustained, and give thanks to God, who gives life—a precious gift that cannot be valued.

Oh, and by the way, I hate all this talk of 'we are pregnant'—what a load of trendy bull! She is pregnant and I have largely felt like a stranger to the whole thing. Nothing has changed for me in the way it has for Toni—that is, until I saw my leanbh beag moving on screen! Now I get the feeling that nothing will be the same again!