This is happening

Space Invaders.  That was my first thought.  This sonogram looks just like the classic arcade game, Space Invaders.  I had taken a liking to Space Invaders over the last year as I began to frequent a new bar in Chicago that doubled as a full arcade.  What drew me in to Space Invaders, other than there never being a line, was that it was incredibly simple, and despite being released 35 years ago, actually had a pretty badass sub-woofer somewhere in the game console. But none of that really mattered at this moment.  The screen I was looking at this September didn't mean I was trying to recapture my youth, it meant I was going to be raising one of my own.

We had known for a few weeks that Vanessa was pregnant, and since she took enough tests to stock a pharmacy for months, there was very little doubt about the results.  Still though, until you hear it for sure from a doctor, or in this case a sonogram technician, there's always that tiniest flicker of doubt.  We had been trying for a few months, with varying degrees of intensity, so when the over the counter tests started coming back positive, we were thrilled.  But still, there's that flicker.  The flickering doubt in the face of overwhelming evidence or long odds.  When that flicker represents doubt about a negative outcome, like beating 3 levels of Space Invaders on your last life, we call it hope.  When its flipped the other way around as it was in that doctor's office, I don't know what you call it.  Worry? Skepticism?  Whatever the right word is, it was there.

I wore a sport coat to the doctor's office.  I figured if I looked slightly more grown-up, maybe they wouldn't be able to accurately peg me as a guy who once allowed a 7 year old watch The Matrix while babysitting.  Apparently it worked.  They let me in the room and didn't tell me to be quiet while the adults talked.  As it was, I didn't really have much to say while they were conducting the sonogram.  I squinted at the screen silently trying to create the illusion that I had a clue of what I was looking at.  After a few minutes, the technician found what she was looking for, a flicker.  This was no flicker of doubt, it was a flicker on the screen...a heartbeat.  One flicker had been replaced by another.  This was happening.  The sonogram didn't look like Space Invaders anymore.