“Great! Let’s take a look at those active little ones, shall we?”
I take Julia’s hand as Helena prepares the ultrasound equipment and squirts gel on Julia’s belly. She presses the wand to her skin. The screen flickers to life, and there they are.
Three distinct shapes now, curled together like puzzle pieces. They’ve grown so much since the last scan. I can make out the curves of their spines, the roundness of their heads. One of them looks like he has a thumb in his mouth.
“Of course, they’re sleeping now,” Julia laughs.
“Looking beautiful,” Helena murmurs, moving the wand to get different angles. “Pup A is head-down already, which is great. Pup B is transverse, and PupC is breech, but there’s still time for them to shift around.”
“Is that typical?” I ask, squeezing Julia’s hand.
“Completely. With litters, it’s a bit of a challenge fitting everyone in there, so their positions shift a lot, especially while they’re still relatively small. As they grow, there will be less room for them to twirl like squirrels, we like to say.”
Julia’s eyes are fixed on the screen, her eyes a little shiny. I know that look. It’s the same one she had when she held Conall’s pups for the first time. Pure, unguarded love.
“Can you tell if they’re boys or girls?” she whispers.
Helena adjusts the wand, frowning in concentration. “Let’s see. Pup A is being shy, but Pup B is showing off. That one’s a boy.” She moves again, trying another angle. “Pup C, definite girl.”
A boy and a girl and a mystery. I can already imagine them. “Perfect,” I say, my voice rough.
“They really are.” Helena prints out some images and hands them to Julia, who clutches them to her chest like they’re made of gold. “Now, before you go, I wanted to mention a few things. We offer birth preparation classes. I know you’re an experienced mom already, Julia, but given that this is an interspecies pregnancy with multiples, I’d strongly recommend attending. We also have a class on raising alitter that covers feeding schedules, sleep training, and general logistics. You can sign up through the online portal.”
“We will,” I say immediately.
Julia nods. “And what about breastfeeding? I nursed my girls, but obviously that was only one baby at a time. I don’t have as many, um…feeding stations as a typical wulver mom.”
Helena chuckles. “Excellent question. I’ll have the front desk give you our packet on feeding multiples as a non-wulver. It covers positioning, pumping schedules, and supplementation if needed. I’ll make a note in your chart to have a lactation specialist get you started off on the right foot at the hospital, too. Now, Julia, I need to speak with you privately for a few minutes. Ian, if you wouldn’t mind stepping out?”
I hesitate, looking at Julia. She gives me a small nod, so I release her hand and head for the door. The hallway is quiet except for the distant sounds of the waiting room. I lean against the wall, pulling out my phone to distract myself from wondering what they’re discussing in there. Probably just routine stuff. Personal questions about symptoms she might not want to talk about in front of me.
A few minutes later, the door opens and Julia emerges, looking thoughtful but not upset. I straighten up, searching her face for clues.
“Everything okay?”
“Yep. And I asked her for another set of the ultrasounds so we both can have one.” She gives me a set of the slippery print-outs and tucks the others into her purse. “I’m starving. Can we get food?”
“Anything you want.”
“I’m not in the mood to be around people right now,” she admits as we climb into the Jeep. “Is that okay?”
“Of course. Let’s hit a drive-through and eat in the car.”
We get Greek food. I crank up the heater and we sit in the parking lot, fragrant steam fogging the windows as we open the containers spread across the center console. Julia digs into the dolmades with single-minded focus while I work on the lamb skewers.
“So,” I say after a few minutes, because the question is still gnawing at me. “Can I ask what Helena wanted to talk about?”
Julia pauses mid-bite. “Oh. It was a domestic violence screening.”
My hackles rise. “Did she have a reason to suspect?”
She shakes her head. “It’s routine. They want to make sure the pregnant person feels safe in their home. That their partner isn’t controlling orabusive. Of course, I told her I feel completely safe with you.”
“Good. Because you are.” The tension in my shoulders doesn’t ease, though, because she doesn’t live with me. She lives withhim. “What about Richard? Is he a safe person?”
Julia shrugs, picking up a pita bread. She rips off a piece and stabs it into the tzatziki. “He’s never around anyway. He’s been in Pittsburgh for most of November. I’ve barely seen him.”
“But when he is around...”
