The technician smiled at us, her eyes kind. “That it is.”
“Is it supposed to be so fast?” I asked in awe.
“Yes, this little one’s heart rate is much faster than ours, as it should be,” she reassured us, her voice steady.
The baby’s heart was so strong, so energetic, so full of life that hearing it for the first time made my knees buckle. In that moment, everything else faded away, and all I could feel was the overwhelming realisation that we were no longer just two—we were three.
Every time I heard it since, my heart burst open.
I’m not ashamed to admit I brushed away a tear the first time I felt her kick. I was lucky to be there for the milestone proof of her moving.
I was in the kitchen cooking when she called me. Not going to lie, the urgency in her voice scared the shit out of me.“Oh my gosh, Texas. Come here.”
When I reached her, her eyes were wide with wonder. As I got closer, she turned and smiled at me. Fuck, she was gorgeous. She lifted her top, grabbed my hand, and placed it on her bare belly.
“Do you feel that?”
“Yeah.” My voice was barely above a whisper.
A small but unmistakable flutter danced beneath my palm, like the softest whisper of life itself. My heart soared, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions—love, awe, and an indescribable connection to the tiny being growing inside her. It was a moment of pure magic, and I knew right then I would protect her and her mother with my life.
I was always talking to the baby. When my face was pressed against Jo’s belly, and Sunshine pretended to be annoyed, I caught the faint, knowing smile on her face. My little bean and I had our chats whenever the urge struck. I spoke to her in English and Cantonese, a language I rarely use anymore, but the need to share my mother tongue with my daughter brought it all back. I could feel our bond. She knew her daddy. She moved more when she heard my voice.
Our little bean was going to be astonishing, just like her mother—smart, beautiful, and strong. She was going to light up every room she enters, and I would be there to cheer heron every step of the way. I was going to give her the world and show her just how deeply she’s loved.
Jo and I eagerly prepared for the baby’s arrival, transforming the cozy cottage into a warm and welcoming haven for our little one. We stocked up on essentials like diapers, blankets, and baby clothes, ensuring everything was ready for the big day. Each tiny outfit was folded with care, and the crib stood ready, a symbol of the joy and love that would soon fill our home. The rocking chair, a beautiful antique piece, stood proudly in the corner of the nursery, symbolising the nurturing bond we envisioned. I imagined Jo gently cradling our baby, softly singing lullabies while the chair swayed back and forth, enveloping her in a soothing rhythm. In my mind’s eye, I could see us sitting together, reading bedtime stories to the baby, creating cherished memories in that special, serene corner of our home.
All under the watchful gaze of the mural my mother created in the room. It meant a lot to me that she wanted to add something special to the nursery, but it meant more to me that Jo absolutely adored the mural.
A lot of time and care had been spent selecting the right doula for us, and we took prenatal classes. I have never studied so hard for anything in my life. Jo and I carefully crafted our birth plan. We would have her at home under the watchful eye of the doula. Sunshine was looking forward to holding the baby skin-to-skin for the first time. We were very prepared.
During a routine ultrasound three weeks before the baby was due, the course of our lives shifted dramatically. I drove Jo to the hospital, a journey that stretched over an hourthrough winding roads and quiet countryside, as we had done faithfully since the very first scan.
“Afterwards, we could stop in at Lucky’s and have an early dinner,” I suggested. Nancy, the owner of Lucky’s, was a close childhood friend of both Amara and Jo. Jo had a particular fondness for their ginger beef, which was always the favourite part of her meal.
Jo’s face brightened with excitement. “Sounds like a plan,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll message Nancy so she can join us.” She quickly pulled out her phone and began typing.
After a brief exchange, they agreed Jo would send a message once we were ready to leave the hospital. Nancy would not only join us but also start preparing our meal herself, ensuring it would be ready as soon as we arrived, sparing us any wait time.
A few minutes later, Jo drifted off to sleep. She woke up only when I parked and shut off the engine. “I can’t believe I fell asleep; it’s so weird that I didn’t even feel tired.”
The waiting room was filled with the sterile scent of the Diagnostic Imaging Department. I tried to distract Jo from her full bladder, but she was unusually quiet, her head resting heavily on my shoulder. The faint hum of fluorescent lights and occasional murmurs of other patients filled the silence. The clinic was short-staffed, and the minutes dragged by, the vinyl chairs growing increasingly uncomfortable as we waited an hour past our appointment time for the ultrasound.
By the time we were called in for the scan, something felt off with Jo. Her movements were slow and heavy, as though each step required immenseeffort. Her usual energy seemed drained, replaced by a sluggishness that weighed her down.
“Hey, Sunshine, do you feel okay?” I asked gently, rubbing her lower back.
She looked ashen, and instead of her usual sassy retort, she gave me a half-hearted smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice accompanied by a heavy sigh.
The technician apologised for being late, saying, “I’m so sorry for the delay. I’m sure you’re about to burst. Let’s get this exam finished so you can relieve yourself.”
“That would be great,” Jo replied, her mouth quirking up at the side in what was supposed to be a smile but looked like a grimace.
Poor Jo, I thought. She must really need to use the washroom. I chided myself for overreacting, convincing myself that her discomfort could simply be attributed to needing to go to the washroom. After all, appointments were usually on time, and Jo wasn’t accustomed to holding her urine for so long. But as I watched her struggle, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was wrong. Her pained expression and the way she carried herself spoke volumes, leaving me with a growing sense of unease.
The sound of the baby’s heartbeat echoed through the room, a rhythmic yet unfamiliar cadence that caught my attention. Though I was no expert, the tone and pattern seemed different. My usual excitement was replaced with anxiety.
