Cloistered in his watery world, wiggling, waving tiny hands and feet, is a baby with a face. With jaw agape and eyes locked on the ultrasound screen in unadulterated wonder, I felt the heat of my amazement wash from crown to toes. I really stopped believing, somewhere in the darkness of failed treatment, that I’d ever get here. This was our 12-week NT scan, and it gave us the confidence to start telling friends this weekend. Super Bowl party, indeed!