They escorted me to the medical unit in cuffs. Standard procedure. Even pregnant women were considered flight risks, I guess. Like I was gonna waddle my way to freedom.
The exam room was small but clean. A female doctor was waiting for me—mid-forties, brown skin, kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her name tag said DR. PATRICE COLEMAN.
“Ms. Ali.” She smiled and gestured to the exam table. “How are you feeling today?”
“Tired. Stressed. The usual.”
“That’s understandable given your circumstances.” She waited while the CO uncuffed me, then shooed him toward the door. “Give us some privacy, please.”
He hesitated but stepped outside.
Dr. Coleman helped me onto the table and got to work. Blood pressure. Temperature. All the standard stuff. Then she pulled out the doppler.
“Let’s check on that baby, shall we?”
She squeezed the cold gel onto my stomach and pressed the wand against my skin. For a second, there was nothing. Just static.
Then I heard it.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
Fast. Strong. Steady.
My baby’s heartbeat.
My eyes burned. I didn’t even try to stop the tears.
“There she is,” Dr. Coleman said softly. “Strong heartbeat. Very healthy. You’re doing great, Mom.”
Mom. I wasn’t used to that word yet. Wasn’t sure I deserved it, given everything. But hearing that heartbeat, knowing my daughter was in there fighting just like me…
“She’s a fighter,” I whispered.
“Strong heartbeat. Very healthy.” Dr. Coleman wiped the gel off my stomach and helped me sit up. “You’re doing great, Mom. Third trimester, baby’s right on track.”
“So I’m cleared? For the transport?”
“Medically, yes. Just stay hydrated, keep taking your prenatals, and try to manage your stress.” She gave me a look like she knew that last part was a joke. “Whatever happens next, take care of yourself. And her.”
“I will.”
She handed me some prenatal vitamins and a pamphlet on pregnancy nutrition that I’d probably never read. I was already hip to what I needed to do. Prime had read everything he could and shared it with me. He was giving me high quality prenatal vitamins and making sure I had the best food. Oh, not to mention the weekly pregnancy massages. He was treating me like a queen. Then the CO came back, cuffed me, and walked me back to my cell.
But I was holding onto that sound. That whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. My daughter’s heartbeat.
We were gonna make it through this. Both of us.
After lockdown lifted, I made my way to the phones.
Mehar answered on the third ring.
“Zainab! Oh my God, I’ve been waiting for you to call. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just had a checkup. Baby’s healthy.”
“Thank God.” I could hear the relief in her voice. “I’ve been so worried.”
“Don’t be. I’m good.” I leaned against the wall, keeping my voice low. “How’s the shop?”
