“Then stop looking at me like I'm going to shatter.”
“I'm looking at you like you're carrying the two most important people in my life inside your body and I want to make sure nothing happens to any of you.”
Beth paused, momentarily disarmed. “That was smooth.”
“I've been practicing.”
They followed the nurse down a hallway decorated with cheerful posters about prenatal nutrition and infant development. Beth had memorized these posters over the past months, had stared at them during countless appointments while waiting for news. She could probably draw them from memory at this point: the food pyramid with the smiling pregnant woman, the developmental milestones chart, the diagram of fetal positions that always made her slightly queasy.
The exam room was small but bright, with a window that looked out on the parking lot. Dr. Patel was already there, reviewing something on her tablet. She looked up when Beth entered and smiled.
“There's my favorite twin mom. How are we feeling today?”
“Enormous,” Beth said, climbing onto the exam table. “Exhausted. Ready for these two to pay rent or move out.”
Dr. Patel laughed. She was a small woman with graying hair and warm eyes, and Beth had liked her immediately from their first appointment. She had a way of making the overwhelming feel manageable, of breaking down the terrifying complexity of twin pregnancy into steps that Beth could actually handle.
“Let's take a look and see what the tenants are up to,” Dr. Patel said.
The ultrasound gel was cold against Beth's belly, a sensation she had never quite gotten used to. Gabriel moved to her side and took her hand, his eyes fixed on the monitor as the image flickered to life.
There they were. Two babies, curled together in the crampedspace of her womb. Beth could see the curve of one spine, the tiny fist of the other. After all these months, she still found it miraculous, the fact that she was growing two entire human beings inside her body. The weight and the exhaustion and the constant need to pee seemed like small prices to pay for such a wonder.
“Both babies are looking good,” Dr. Patel said, moving the wand slowly across Beth's belly. “Baby A is head down, which is what we want. Baby B is transverse, lying sideways, which is not unusual for twins. They're measuring right on track for thirty-seven weeks.”
“And their heartbeats?” Gabriel asked. He always asked about the heartbeats. It was the first thing he wanted to know, the reassurance he needed before he could absorb any other information.
Dr. Patel adjusted the equipment, and suddenly the room filled with sound. Two heartbeats, rapid and strong, overlapping in a rhythm that sounded like a galloping horse.
Gabriel's grip on Beth's hand tightened. She looked up at him and saw tears in his eyes.
“They sound good,” he said, his voice rough.
“They sound perfect,” Dr. Patel agreed. She finished the ultrasound and handed Beth a paper towel to wipe the gel from her belly. “Now, let's talk about timing.”
Beth sat up slowly, Gabriel's hand on her back to steady her. “Are we looking at an induction?”
“Possibly. With twins, we typically recommend delivery between thirty-seven and thirty-eight weeks, assuming everything continues to look healthy. You're at thirty-seven weeks now, which means we're in the window.” Dr. Patel consulted her tablet. “I'd like to see you again on Friday for another check. If the babies are still doing well and you're showing signs of being ready, we can talk about scheduling an induction for early next week. If things happen naturally before then, you know the drill.”
“Hospital bag is packed,” Beth said. “Has been for two weeks.”
“Good. Any questions?”
Beth had a thousand questions. She had spent months reading books and articles and online forums, absorbing information until her brain felt stuffed with facts she might never need. But the one question that mattered most was the one she couldn't bring herself to ask: would everything be okay? Would her babies arrive safely? Would she be a good mother?
Those weren't questions Dr. Patel could answer. Those were questions Beth would have to live her way into.
“I think we're good,” she said.
“Then I'll see you Friday. Call if anything changes before then. And Beth?” Dr. Patel smiled. “Try to rest. I know that's easier said than done at this stage, but these are your last few days of relative quiet. Enjoy them.”
They scheduled the Friday appointment and made their way back through the waiting room, past the nervous couples and the enormously pregnant women and the cheerful posters that Beth hoped she would never have to look at again.
Outside, the March air was cold and clean. Beth stood on the sidewalk and breathed deeply, letting the chill fill her lungs. Gabriel hovered beside her, as he always did, ready to catch her if she stumbled.
“Early next week,” he said.
“Maybe sooner.”
