“My head hurts, yes.”
“On a scale of one to ten with ten being the worst, how bad is it?”
“Five or six, maybe. But I think I’m okay.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Are you hurting anywhere else?”
“My back is sore along my ribs. I’d put it at about a four.”
“Experiencing any vertigo or other symptoms?”
“When I woke up, I felt pretty dizzy. And my muscles are, I don’t know…” I stretched out my arms. “Stiff, I guess. How long was I out, anyway?”
“Eighteen days,” Romeo intoned from a few feet away, his tone somber.
“What about the baby?” I asked when I couldn’t take the suspense any longer. “Is it okay?”
As though sensing that I needed him, my husband returned to my bedside and took my hand in his. The physician’s expression became carefully blank.
“Well, what our team will be doing next is evaluating and examining you. We’ll share any answers or recommendations we collect afterwards.”
They wheeled me out of my room and proceeded to scan, poke, and prod at me for the ensuing hour and a half. None of this phased me much until they returned me back to my empty room. I didn’t see Romeo, but a middle-aged blonde woman appeared, pushing a cart.
“Okay, honey, I’m Dr. Alison Basinger. I’m going to do an ultrasound on your tummy to check the status of your pregnancy. Your records report you to be at seventeen weeks, is that correct?”
Was that right? I guessed it must be. “Yes.”
“Let me just shut the door—”
“Can you see if my husband is in the waiting room? Romeo Cavetti?” I interrupted her. Whatever the ultrasound showed, I wanted him with me.
Before she could even call his name, he appeared at the threshold, his gaze seeking and locking onto mine. I reached out for him and he answered my silent plea by striding over and threading our fingers together.
Dr. Basinger offered us a kind half-smile. “Ready?”
Still maintaining eye contact, we replied in unison. “Ready.”
The doctor lifted my hospital gown, fastened a sensor low on my abdomen, and smeared KY jelly over my baby bump. She flipped a switch, and suddenly a sloshing sound filled the room, rhythmic and regular. Touching a wand to my belly, she dragged it along, and an image appeared on the screen of her monitor.
“Let’s see,” she murmured. “There’s an arm and a hand.” As I stared, I recognized five teeny little fingers. “There’s the curve of the head and the mouth. Cute nose.”
“So, it’s okay?” I asked.
“Oh, yes.” Dr. Basinger said with confidence. “That sound you’re hearing is the fetal heartbeat. It’s nice and strong.”
I tore my eyes from the screen to glance at Romeo, whose face displayed unadulterated awe.
“Want to know the gender? I’m getting a good butt shot, so we should be able to tell.”
“Yes, that’d be great,” Romeo told her once I nodded.
She dragged the wand around, then held it still, hitting a button on her machine. “Do you see what I see?”
I squinted at the black and white image. I could make out the legs, and at the vee between them, another appendage stuck out. A penis.
“A boy?” I said, just to be certain.
“Definitely,” she confirmed, and Romeo released an explosion of gleeful laughter.
