Last week’s ultrasound scan came at the perfect time. After struggling with mixed feelings about my changing body (a hormonally-enhanced struggle, no doubt!), I really needed to see what was going on in there. At times, it’s one thing for people (well-meaning, sweet people) to tell you “Embrace your pregnant self! Your body is a miracle! It’s doing amazing things! Everything is beautiful and perfect! Blah blah blah”… and quite another to believe it yourself.

Getting to see my daughter (daughter!!!) was like taking a big eraser and wiping all these feelings clean. All that was left was a contented stillness in my formerly noisy head… a blank space ready for wonderful things to show up.

It was as complete a medical checkup as you can get at the age of 19 weeks. Marlon and I cycled through fascination, excitement and relief as the ob-gynecologist took us through organs and systems that, eight weeks ago, were not yet visible or not functional. Although the echopraktijk made it clear that this scan is limited and doesn’t guarantee a 100% healthy, normal baby (they only check for visible abnormalities), every pronouncement of “normal”—for her heart, head, bones, weight, among others—made my heart swell just a little bit more.

As an able-bodied person, I was reminded of the many little miracles I’ve taken for granted: that my mouth can open and my esophagus can swallow, allowing my stomach and bladder to fill and empty; that the part of my brain that controls my limbs is normal and functioning; that the vertebrae of my spine are fully closed, having formed in my mother’s womb without any holes or openings.

I never thought about these things… until I saw them taking place in another body right inside my very own body. There’s just no other way to describe it than… amazing.

Suddenly, things made sense. Weeks of drinking 2-3 glasses of milk a day were crystallized into a perfectly formed spine and the tiniest ribcage, not to mention a femur—the long bone in the upper leg—described by our Dutch gynecologist as “small,” indicating a small baby. Take note: this is the Netherlands, where babies and adults are huge. I’m pretty sure for a Filipino baby, her size is okay.

The scan also revealed why I can feel our daughter moving, but Marlon can’t when he puts his hand on my belly. It’s because the placenta, the baby’s food source, lies along the front of my belly (it’s the thick white thing at the top of the photo). And I thought Marlon couldn’t feel the movements because I was too fat! I can stop kicking myself now.

What I took away from it all was this: somewhere, somehow, things are unfolding exactly as they should. What needs to be happening is happening… whether you see it, or understand it, or not.

This is something I need to remember now and then; maybe you do, too. I couldn’t be more thankful for the reminder.