An anniversary to celebrate (and it's a....)

Last week was our 4th wedding anniversary, and for the first time in our marriage it felt like something to celebrate, instead of another painful reminder of what we still did not have.
  
All was well at our 20-week ultrasound appointment. As our doctor said, "this kiddo looks perfectly normal from head to toe." I had gotten myself totally worked up starting the night before the appointment, worse than I'd been in weeks. I realized that the kinda-sorta-not-even-sure movement I had started to feel a few days earlier had been absent that day, and it just tipped my nerves over the edge. Laid in bed that night, felt nothing. Stirred in the early morning hours, felt nothing. Got up for work, felt nothing. I flat out sobbed in the shower that morning, convinced that something had gone wrong, that we had lost our precious beat. I found myself imagining the appointment, getting bad news, what I would tell work, how I would tell my mom -- in a flash I was so far down this road mentally, and I was near hysterical. Everything I had been trying to suppress and manage these past few weeks just came to an ugly head.
  
But bless the ultrasound tech who right away eased my fears with "there's the heartbeat." And then next went in search of figuring out the gender. 
  
It's a boy. 
  
It took so long for this to sink in and become real. I was still on another planet just trying to calm myself down from hearing there's a heartbeat, and suddenly this abstract "pregnancy" was a real baby, a child, a boy. Right away I looked at my husband through my tears, just so happy for him, seeing him beaming like that. 
  
It was an overwhelming and emotionally exhausting day, but I can tell that I'm doing better since, that it's helped lift some of my mental block against believing this is real. I allowed my mom to take me shopping for maternity clothes (but still shut down and stammered when she tried to ask me about having a shower, if I planned to breast feed, etc. - one step at a time, mom!). I felt sane and genuinely happy while making my way through my baby-tour of a weekend - a new niece arrived on Friday in Mr. B's family, and I had already made plans to visit 3 girlfriends (2 from my IRL support group) who had had babies recently. I was able to muster small talk with strangers who offered congratulations and asked about due dates. For the first time, I didn't stow away our ultrasound photos into a drawer, but left them out on the kitchen table, falling in love with that little nose and hint of a smile a little more each time I passed it.
  
The fear is still there, looming and lurking. But I've allowed myself to feel some happiness and excitement at last. December 1st is still feeling so incredibly far away, but I'm so grateful to be where we are and will do my best to just keep getting to that next day, one day at a time.