“Hi Zalea, my name is Erika and I’m one of the ultrasound technicians that work here,” she says, and I notice her accent is American.
She helps Zalea lift her hospital gown above her stomach, her bed sheets covering her lower half while I take a seat in the empty chair next to Zalea’s bed.
“Alright,” Erika says, turning to grab a bottle from her table. “Let’s take a look at those little fighters.”
She spreads a gel across Zalea’s stomach and then gently presses the probe down against her skin. The screen in front of us flickers to life in grey and white static and for a moment I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
“There they are,” Erika says as she smiles.
I stare at the screen and realize those two distinct shapes on the screen are the babies.
“They both look good so far,” she says calmly, slowly moving the probe. “Both have strong positioning and good movement.”
Zalea’s fingers dig into mine and I just hold on tighter.
“Because of your history,” Erika continues, “the doctor would also like me to do a transvaginal ultrasound to check cervicallength and ensure there’s no early shortening which can be a factor in second trimester loss.”
“Okay,” she says quietly, but she’s gone completely still as she turns to look at me while Erika does the exam.
I keep my eyes on her face the entire time, brushing my thumb along her knuckles and placing soft kisses atop them.
“Great, your cervical length looks strong, no funnelling, so no immediate concerns on my end.”
I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and Zalea does the same. Erika studies us both with a small smile.
“You both look like you might faint,” she says, a humorous edge to her voice. “I’m not really supposed to do this but would you like to hear the heartbeats?”
Zalea’s eyes go wide immediately. “Yes,” she breathes.
My throat tightens and all I can do is nod in agreement, watching as Erika adjusts the settings until the sound of static comes through. She repositions the probe and within seconds a tiny galloping heartbeat fills the room. She adjusts it again and another perfect, little heartbeat joins in.
Tears spill down Zalea’s temples into her hair as a sob escapes her. “Oh my God,” she cries, and I don’t even try to hold mine back.
My vision blurs and I swipe at my face with my sleeve. The sound of our babies' hearts is everything I thought I’d never experience. I instantly feel protective of them, more so than before, and I feel a newfound strength that I never had burning through my chest.
“They’re real,” I whisper, and she nods, crying harder.
Erika looks over her shoulder then back to us, clearing her throat gently.
“I’m supposed to wait until next week, but I can already see their genders if you would like to know now.”
Zalea gasps and looks at me. “I want to know.”
I imagine her finding out right now, but then I picture her stuck in this hospital bed for months without this moment being anything special.
She deserves balloons, and cake, and her parents even if it’s through a video call. I want her to have something special to look back on when she thinks of the day she found out what her babies would be.
“Could you…” I clear my throat. “Could you write them down instead?”
Zalea looks at me in surprise and a bit hurt. “You don’t want to know?”
I do,” I say, squeezing her hand in gentle reassurance. “But I want to make it special.”
Erika smiles knowingly and nods. “Of course.”
She turns our shared screen off so that only she can see the angles as she quietly confirms to herself. I watch as she scribbles on a small card, folds it carefully, and seals it in an envelope.
“Here you go,” she says, handing it to me.
