After five years of marriage, my husband and I decided we wanted a baby.  Sad to say, I don’t recall checking with God much about this, but He didn’t send a concerned email so I laid my clothes on the bed next to Doug’s and bam—prego. Phone calls, nursery plans and a roomy pair of overalls became the norm. Until I went in for my first ultrasound at twelve weeks and the technician looked strange.  Nice lady, but I could tell she couldn’t tell, so I studied her face.  “Everything okay?” “The doctor will go over everything with you.” “I thought there would be a heartbeat by now.” “He’ll…