“Okay, well, let’s have a look at these,” she says, flipping through the forms I’ve filled out. “So you’ve been on the birth control injection for the last four years. Have you had any issues?”
“No, none,” Octavia tells her.
“Regular periods?”
“Not really, but my last doctor told me that could happen.”
“Yes, some people keep a regular period, some have sporadic periods. It can vary person to person. So when was your last injection? It doesn’t say here,” the doctor asks.
“I think it was due a couple of weeks ago, so I’d say a little over three months ago,” Octavia says.
“Okay, well, I had your previous doctor send over your medical records when you registered with us, so let me go ahead and check.” Sitting down on a rolling stool, she slides a mouse with her hand and brings the computer screen to life. Typing quickly, she enters Octavia’s name into a database and starts to scroll through entries.
“Oh. Okay, so it looks like it’s been over four months since your last shot. Have you been sexually active that whole time?”
Octavia’s cheeks bloom red. “Err. No, but we got married almost six weeks ago, and since then…” She trails off like she’s too embarrassed to admit that we’ve been having sex.
“But prior to that? No other sexual partners?”
“No,” Octavia quickly says. “Before we got married, it had been about six months since the last time I was”—she swallows—“sexually active.”
“Okay. So have you been using protection?” the doctor asks, looking at both Octavia and me in turn.
“No. We are planning to start a family right away,” I tell her.
“Okay, well, given the time since your last birth control shot, I think it’s best that we do a pregnancy test, just to check, thenwe can do the exam and I can answer any questions you have,” Dr. Singh says. “Do you have a urine sample for me?”
“It’s there,” I say, pointing to the sample cup.
Pulling on gloves, the doctor opens a drawer and lifts out a foil packet. Ripping off the end, she opens the sample cup, then pulls a thin strip from the packet and dips it into Octavia’s urine. Holding it there for a second, she places it on top of the foil.
No one speaks, and the silence feels thick as the doctor watches the strip, and we both watch the doctor.
“Congratulations, you’re pregnant,” she announces, twisting around to face us, a wide smile spread across her face.
“I’m pregnant?” Octavia gasps.
“The test is positive, but occasionally false positives do happen, so I’d like to do an ultrasound and see how far along you are, if that’s okay with you.”
“Yes,” I answer before Doll can speak.
“Well, okay,” the doctor says, picking up the sample cup and the test and carrying them over to the disposal bin, placing them and her gloves inside. “I’ll go and get the ultrasound machine.”
“Thank you, Dr. Singh,” I say, reaching out to Octavia as the doctor leaves the room.
“I’m pregnant,” Doll whispers.
“I love you, Doll,” I tell her, placing my hand over her stomach, as I lean down and kiss her.
Dipping her chin, she stares down at my hand, then back up to me again. “I’m pregnant,” she repeats, her brow furrowed. “How?”
“Well,” I start, planning to explain how my sperm has fertilized her egg, but the door opens and Dr. Singh walks in, pushing a large machine on wheels.
“Okay, if you could lie back, bend your knees, and rest your heels on the end of the bed, then let your knees fall to the sides,” she says, closing the door.
“What?” Octavia squeaks.
“As we don’t know how many weeks pregnant you are, I’m going to use an internal probe to see the baby and get an accurate measurement,” she says, sliding a condom onto a long white probe that looks a little like a plastic sex toy. “You shouldn’t feel any pain, but there may be a little pressure, which is normal.”
