“Give it a few weeks and you’ll be feeling every kick, punch, roll, and hiccup.”
“I’ve waited a decade,” I say past the lump in my throat. “What’s a few more weeks?”
“We’vewaited,” Trevor says.
His words bring a huge smile to my face along with tears to my eyes. I know he can’t remember the struggles, the disappointments, the gut-wrenching tests. But I still love how supportive and all-in he’s being by saying‘we.’
I still can’t believe it’s happening. I mean, I saw firsthand on the other ultrasounds. I went through morning sickness. I’ve had all the pregnancy symptoms. And I’m seeing her right now. But after all the years of trying and failing, it’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that it’s really real. I’m going to be a mom. I alreadyama mom. Because even though I haven’t met her—haven’t even felt her move yet—I love her. Or maybe theideaof her.
Suddenly, an unexpected thought bombards me. Is this what it’s like for Trevor? He didn’t know me, still doesn’t in many ways, but he gets that we’re connected by a bond. Sure, that bond may be a piece of paper, a marriage certificate he doesn’t remember signing—something he’s not even as obligated to honor as much as say…a human growing inside you. But there are parallels. He didn’t have to choose me after waking up in that hospital. But he did.
“She’s measuring right on track for sixteen weeks,” the doctor says, oblivious to the profound moment I’m experiencing. “About four and a half inches long.”
“Can you tell me in terms of fruit?” Trevor asks.
I give him a blank stare.
“I always hear people refer to babies in terms of fruit. You know, it’s the size of a blueberry or a lemon, or a cantaloupe.”
Dr. Russo chuckles. “This little one is about the size of an avocado. She’s also fully formed, just very tiny. She’s got all her fingers and toes.” She stops moving the wand. “See here, there’s a foot.”
I long to reach out and trace it. And even though Dr. Russo just said she has all her fingers and toes, I find myself quickly counting them just to be sure.
“We’ll do the full anatomy scan at your next appointment, but I’m not seeing anything here that concerns me.”
She pulls the transducer away.
“Wait!” Trevor says. “Just one more look.”
Dr. Russo gives him an empathetic smile. She knows his story just like everyone else in this town. She puts it back on my belly and lets him see the baby for another minute or two. The entire time, he says nothing. He just stares at the screen, eyes wide, jaw slightly agape, hand tightly around mine.
Me? I just lie here looking at him, not the baby. Because even though he’s already this baby’s father, I swear over these past few minutes I saw him become a daddy.
Chapter Forty-One
Trevor
Iturn my head to the sound of a low whistle.
Carter walks into the garage, admiring my work. “You’re making progress, I see.” He peers over my shoulder. “Chassis reinforcement. Nice. Those subframe connectors fit like a charm.” His head shakes in amusement. “It still blows my mind how you remember how to do all this shit.”
“There’s a lot I don’t know. How much did you help me?”
“A bit. We’d spend a day on it here and there when you were on leave. You’d pick my brain about every little thing. And once I showed you how to do something, you’d never have to ask again. Your brain is like a damn sponge, man. I guess that’s what made you a good doctor.” He runs his hand along the brace I just installed, checking its integrity. “Speaking of that, how’s the paramedic training coming along?”
I straighten and lean against the front quarter panel. “Great. I’m just about done. I go in later this week for my final neuropsych testing.” I knock on my head. “They want to make sure I’m cognitively intact. I’ve completed all my credits, passed the test, and finished the hands-on training. Fingers crossed, by this time next week, I’ll be riding in a rig saving lives.”
“You say that, but I’m sure you won’t see the carnage you were used to treating overseas.” He shifts uncomfortably. “I mean, not that you remember it. Either way, I’m sure most EMS calls in this tiny town probably have more to do with hangnails and gastroenteritis.”
“You’re not wrong about small towns lacking the car accidents and traumatic injury calls that exist with larger populations. Still, you’d be surprised at how many of them are for things like falls, burns, or blunt force traumas. But generally, yeah, we’ll get called for things like respiratory distress, abdominal pain, chest pain…”
“Again… how do you know that?”
I laugh. “I don’t know. I just do.”
He pulls over the greasy rolling stool and sits. “I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this question, but I gotta ask. Do you think your memory will ever return?”
I cross my legs at the ankles and stare at the ground, slowly shaking my head. “Honestly, I’m not expecting it to. If it does, great. But I won’t hold my breath. And I’m moving forward as if it’s not going to happen. I can’t try to live in a past I don’t remember, so I’ve made it a point to only look to the future.”
