I cut a look over at Travis.
We hadn’t discussed the spotting. The potential that my baby—our baby, might be in trouble or worse.
“A little this morning.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Travis shifts in his chair.
Is he as scared as I am?
“As we discussed before, spotting is often a common occurrence in pregnancy,” Dr. Slosher says as she begins putting on a pair of latex gloves. “Many times it’s not a cause for concern. Add to that, you are young and healthy.”
She picks up the nodule thing for the ultrasound.
“This is going to be a little cold,” she explains before squeezing that goo onto my belly.
The instant the nodule touches my belly, my mind flashes back over the past eight weeks. From the moment I found I was pregnant, the way I consoled myself with my weight in ice cream and double chocolate cookies, to the multiple nights of catering shifts to make up for my lost income.
Did I put my baby in danger?
Has the stress of my life jeopardized a life that’s barely begun?
My teeth sink into my lower lip as I keep my eyes trained on Dr. Slosher. I can’t bear to look at the monitor to my right, not yet. I study the concentrated look on her face, the taut way she holds her mouth, the additional lines in her forehead.
The moment it feels like I can’t take the silence any longer, the room fills with a rhythmic thrumming sound.
Dr. Slosher’s face relaxes, and her eyes meet mine.
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
I finally look over at the monitor and, “Oh my God!” I breathe out. “Is that him?
“Or her?” I quickly add.
“That’s your baby.”
I stare at the black and white screen, making out the formation of a fetus. At least, that’s what I think it is. From all of the movies and shows I’ve seen of this moment, it looks exactly like what I imagined.
The head takes up about a third of the screen, followed by the slightly rounded belly and little squiggly things that I conclude are its arms and legs.
“Is it too early to find out the gender?” Travis, who stands beside me, asks.
I look to Dr. Slosher.
She nods. “Yes. The ultrasound we do somewhere around your eighteenth and twenty-second week is when you can find out the gender. You can decide before then if you want to find out.”
“I don’t know.” I look up at Travis.
A part of me would love to know, but I also enjoy the surprise of not knowing, of allowing this baby to grow and become whatever he, she, or they’re meant to become.
“I’ll follow your lead on that,” Travis says. “We have time to talk about it.” Then he squeezes my hand.
Overwhelmed by sudden emotion, I make myself look away, but my gaze lands right back on the monitor that shows our baby.
A sheen of moisture clouds my vision.
“Incredible,” I murmur.
The room falls into a silence that’s only filled by the strong heartbeat of the life growing inside of me. Last night all I felt was terror when I went to the bathroom and first saw those drops of blood.
