He runs his hands around the leather steering wheel and settles them at the bottom of it. He drives with one hand as he reaches for my hand with the other. Eyeing the backseat through the rear-view mirror, he squeezes my hand gently. “I guess I just figured this had a little more room. You know, for the baby and all.”
And just like that, my heart melts.
I squeeze his hand tightly and tears sting the back of my eyes at the sweetness of his actions. A vision comes to life in my head - me sitting in the back seat next to our baby who is securely tucked into his, or her, new car seat. I can see Reid driving as carefully as possible as he takes us home from the hospital. Our first car ride as a family.
I have no clue where home will be at that point, but I’m not worried about that anymore. I know that we’ll figure it all out when the time comes. There was a time when all that concerned me was where I belonged, but now, I know without an ounce of doubt, that I will always have a place, a purpose.
Thinking about our baby sparks another question to mind. “So, I don’t think they’ll be able to tell us for another few months, but how do you feel about finding out the gender of the baby?” I’m trying to bite back the anxiety of talking about the baby. Part of me really wants to know, but part of me couldn’t care less.
My question catches him off guard. I doubt he’s thought much about it. I mean he only really just came around to the idea of having a baby so I didn’t expect much of a reaction.
He clears his throat and murmurs, “Umm,” but he doesn’t say any actual words. He turns into the parking lot and kills the engine. Turning towards me, he clears his throat again. “I hadn’t really thought about it, Maddy. I mean, I guess as long as it’s healthy, it doesn’t really matter, right?” He still sounds pretty nervous about having a baby. I can’t blame him.
He looks so freaking adorable sitting across from me talking about our baby. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter, not that we have any control of it anyway. I just didn’t know if you had strong feelings about finding out the gender ahead of time.” He looks at me and his face prompts me to continue talking.
“I guess I’d rather not find out. We’ve both been through so much that it’ll be nice to be surprised.” I shrug my shoulders to make it seem like it really doesn’t matter to me. And it doesn’t; I know that meeting my baby for the first time will be the happiest moment of my life, but the more I think about it, the more I want to wait to find out.
He leans across the seat and kisses me sweetly. “That sounds perfect.” After one last kiss, we exit the car.
Sitting in the waiting room is an interesting experience, to say the least. There are a few other women in here with us in varying states of their pregnancies. When one woman stands, and I use the word ‘stand’ loosely – she has to rock back and forth on the chair a few times to catch some forward momentum in order to launch her gigantic belly up from the seat – Reid and I both look at her with a mixture of amazement and fear.
I lean into his ear and whisper, “I’m going to get huge.” He laughs at the tiny bit of fear that tinges my words. He places his hand on my knee and squeezes before leaning into my ear. “Yes, you are. And even when you do, I will still love you. Every inch of you.” He leans over and gives me a quick peck on the cheek.
And there goes my heart, melting again.
While we’re sitting there catching up from our week apart, the nurse calls my name and I stand to walk into the exam room. Reid sits, frozen in his seat. He’s not voicing the silent concerns that I know we’ve both been having. What if everything is not okay? What if something is wrong with the baby?
I don’t know of two words in the English language that are more dangerous when placed together.
What if?
Neither of us says anything. I hold out my hand to him, and he takes it in his and gives it a tight squeeze. The long cheerfully decorated hallway is covered in baby pictures and I can’t help but smile at their beauty.
The nurse informs me of the routine for every visit. Pee in a cup. Get weighed. Get undressed. Take blood pressure. Sit on exam table and wait.
While we’re waiting in the room, the nervousness sets in. Reid paces the floor, and I fidget with the sheet across my lap. Dr. Trivedi comes in about ten minutes after I’ve completed the standard procedures and she smiles happily at both Reid and I.
Reaching out to shake my hand and then his, she asks, “So, how are you feeling Ms. Becker? Have you had any problems since last week?”
“No. No problems, I mean. I’m feeling a bit nervous, though. Just want to make sure that everything is okay.” Even I can hear the anxiety in my words. Obviously hearing them too, Reid takes my hand in his and we eagerly await the doctor’s next words.
“Well, we won’t know until we take a look.” She pushes a few buttons on the sonogram machine and I lie back on the table. Rather than the long probe like device that she used last week, she uses the other piece that does the sonogram over my belly.
Squirting the cold, clear gel on my stomach, she says, “Take a deep breath and relax. Let’s see how your baby is.”
I hear it before I see anything.
The heartbeat. It’s a beautiful sound. It’s a difficult sound to describe, but it’s grainy almost, like sand passing through water. The pulsating whoosh-whoosh of our baby’s heart is the most precious noise I have ever heard and it prompts happy tears to spring from my eyes.
I look up at Reid and notice that his eyes are shining too. We squeeze each other’s hands and he bends down to kiss my cheek. He whispers in my ear, “I love you.” Dr. Trivedi hears him and her lips quirk into a cute little smile at his affection.
She clicks on a few more buttons, measures things, prints out another picture for us and then wipes the goo from my belly. After she writes down a few notes in my chart, she leans back against the counter and folds her arms across her chest. “It looks like everything’s going well. The baby is growing and measuring right on track at about ten weeks. That puts your due date at,” she reaches in her pocket to pull out a paper disc. Spinning it a few times, I laugh thinking that she looks more like she’s playing Wheel of Fortune, than calculating a due date. When she finally arrives at her answer, she continues her earlier sentence. “That would make your due date August twenty-first.”
I smile, but I can’t help the concern that bubbles in my chest thinking that Reid will be gone for most of the pregnancy. Logically, I know that the internship is important to him, to us and our future, but it still hurts knowing that, after this one, it looks like I’ll be alone for the rest of my appointments.
I swallow past my hurt and say, “That’s great, Dr. Trivedi. Thank you for everything.” She nods her head at us and asks if we have any more questions. I don’t, but Reid clears his throat to speak up.
“Are the um…restrictions still in place from last week?” I’m actually surprised he waited this long to ask about sex.
