"Same."
We check in, and the waiting room is mercifully empty except for one pregnant woman who's approximately eight months along and reading a magazine with impressive focus.
"Emma Dawson?" the nurse calls.
We follow her back to the ultrasound room—familiar now, after our last appointment which was the twelve-week appointment that confirmed everything was progressing normally. One healthy heartbeat. One tiny baby. Everything perfect.
The ultrasound tech—a woman in her forties named Patricia—has me change into a gown and settle onto the exam table.
"Twenty weeks!" she says cheerfully. "The fun appointment. Ready to find out what you're having?"
"Yes," Miles and I say simultaneously.
"Excellent." She squirts cold gel on my stomach—still weird, still uncomfortable—and places the ultrasound wand. "Let's take some measurements first."
The monitor shows grainy black and white images that I'm supposed to understand but mostly look like abstract art. Patricia moves the wand around, clicking buttons, taking measurements.
Her expression shifts. Becomes focused.
She takes more measurements.
Then more.
Miles' hand tightens on mine. "Everything okay?"
"Let me just..." Patricia trails off, taking even more measurements. Then she sets down the wand. "I need to get Dr. Martinez. One moment."
She leaves before we can ask questions.
Miles and I stare at each other.
"What was that?" I whisper.
"I don't know."
"She looked concerned."
"She looked focused."
"That's the same thing!"
"Emma—"
"Something's wrong. Something's wrong with the baby and she wouldn't tell us?—"
"We don't know that."
But his voice is tight. He's worried too.
Dr. Martinez enters with Patricia, both wearing professional smiles that could mean anything from "everything's fine" to "we need to discuss options."
My heart is racing. Miles' grip on my hand is almost painful.
"Emma, Miles." Dr. Martinez settles onto the stool, pulling up the ultrasound images on the monitor. "Everything looks great. But I want to do some additional measurements myself. Patricia caught something interesting."
"Interesting bad or interesting good?" I ask.
"Interesting good." She picks up the wand, applying more cold gel. "Ready to see your baby?"
