The picture he's painting sounds surreal. Foreign. Like something from a TV show about families I've never been part of, never dared to dream about.
"That sounds overwhelming."
"It is," he admits with a small laugh. "But it's also... nice? To know people care. To know you're not doing it all alone."
A knock on the door interrupts us. Dr. Patel enters—an Indian woman in her fifties with kind eyes and an efficient manner.
"Sloane, nice to meet you. And you must be...?"
"Tucker," he supplies. "The father."
Dr. Patel nods. "Well, let's take a look and make sure everything is progressing normally. Sloane, if you could lie back on the table and put your feet in the stirrups."
I comply, acutely aware of Tucker in the room as I position myself. Dr. Patel explains what she's doing—measurements, checking my cervix, and preparing for an ultrasound.
"This early, we'll need to do a transvaginal ultrasound," she explains, holding up what looks like a wand. "It's a bit uncomfortable, but it gives us a much better view of the embryo."
Tucker sputters. “Vaginal? Like … her vagina?”
Dr. Patel looks at him, one brow raised. “I imagine you are familiar with that part of her body?” I cough to cover a laugh. The admin had prepared me for this when I called to make the appointment, but I guess this is an unexpected advancement for Tucker.
"Trust me, you'll be seeing a lot of this over the next eight months," Dr. Patel says with a smile. "Ready?"
I nod, and she guides the probe inside. Tucker stands, his chair scraping against the linoleum tile. “You just went for it. Right on in there. Holy shit, are we seeing inside?”
He’s by my side at the exam table, leaning forward toward the screen, which lights up with grainy black and white images and swirling static sounds.
"There we go," Dr. Patel murmurs, adjusting the wand. "Let me just..."
And then I hear it. A rapid flutter, like hoofbeats in the distance.
"Is that—" My voice catches.
"That's the heartbeat," Dr. Patel confirms. "Nice and strong."
Tucker gasps abruptly, moving closer to the screen. His hand finds mine without either of us seeming to decide it should, and I let him hold it because I need something to anchor me to this moment.
That's a heartbeat. A real, actual heartbeat. My baby's heartbeat.
Our baby's heartbeat.
"Wait," Dr. Patel says, her brow furrowing slightly as she adjusts the probe. "Let me check something."
My heart stops. "Is something wrong?"
"No, not wrong. Just..." She moves the wand again, and the sound amplifies. The flutter seems to double in speed. Dr. Patel hums happily. “Yes, I thought so. I'm seeing two gestational sacs. Two heartbeats."
The room tilts. "Two?"
"Congratulations," Dr. Patel says, smiling at both of us. "You're having twins."
Tucker's hand tightens around mine. I can't look at him. Can't look away from the screen where Dr. Patel is pointing out two tiny flickers, two separate miracles that are somehow both mine.
Twins.
"Are you sure?" My voice sounds distant, not quite my own.
"Positive. See here?" She indicates two distinct areas on the screen. "Two separate embryos. Based on the measurements and your last menstrual period, I'd say your due date would be sometime in late February. But twins like to arrive early.”
