It’s funny, because when I see other people’s ultrasound pictures, I’m usually like, “okay.” No big deal. There’s a vaguely human-shaped thing in a kind of blotchy black and white rendition–excellent . . . good for you. I guess.

But my baby . . . our baby . . . it’s so different.

And why make you wait any longer–it’s a girl. She’s a girl.

After those assertive kicks while we were listening to her heartbeat, I was expecting more of the same in the ultrasound room–flips, kicks, maybe a little boxing. But she must have been worn out from her earlier endeavors, because she just kind of hung out along the bottom of my uterus, right next to my right hip.

Which appears to be her favorite spot, since that’s where that weird lump appeared Sunday on my belly.

The idea that this little girl has a favorite spot to hang out . . . it just thrills me. She’s a little person, with little preferences, and a little personality.

I love that verse from one of David’s psalms that says, “Yet you desired faithfulness even in the womb; you taught me wisdom in that secret place.” (51:6) I don’t pretend to know what that means–but it obviously implies that spirituality doesn’t start when we are born, or when we can say a word or two, form a complete sentenece, or even–God forbid–recite some sort of confession of faith! Spirituality doesn’t start once we can articulate thoughts with our mouths, or even in our own heads. It starts before that–in the womb. This baby of ours already has a relationship with God. I have no idea what that looks like–but I know in my soul that it’s true, and I rejoice.

For the majority of the ultrasound, I lay in the darkened room holding my husband’s hand while the ultrasonographer moved the gadget over my gel-covered stomach and typed things on her computer. But at the end, she turned the screen and let us watch.

Wow.

The best moment was when suddenly her little hand–with all its little fingers marvellously visible–came into view, and she started moving it.

She was waving to us, I’m convinced.

“Hi, little girl,” I couldn’t help saying out loud in response.

The fingers opened and closed as we watched her. It was a graceful, almost nonchalant princess wave. Elegant like a little dancer.