“We’ll redraw labs today,” she continues. “Just to ensure everything remains within limits.” She scrolls again. “And you have an IUD?”
Hildy nods. “I had just had it implanted a week before I got pregnant. I was told it was effective immediately based on the time of my cycle.”
“It’s possible it shifted,” Dr. Hartmann says. “These devices are highly effective, but partial expulsion or migration can occur. In your case, it likely moved enough to allow implantation. We’ll check to make sure it’s not currently positioned in a way that could compromise the pregnancy. At this stage, removal can pose a greater risk than leaving it in place. We will continue to check its position with imaging.”
I tense and so does Hildy, but I man up and attempt to comfort her by taking her hand.
“After the exam, we’ll also redraw blood. Those results won’t be immediate,” she says. “We’ll call if anything is abnormal.”
Abnormal. I don’t like that word.
Hildy lies back and puts her feet in stirrups. I do not look down; I lock my eyes with hers. There’s concern in them. I don’t like that she’s worried, but I also do because it says she wants this child,our child.
Or perhaps it’s because I appear to be too relaxed? Like I’ve done this a hundred times. If that’s the case, I’ll have to admit that I did my research on what to expect, and let me tell you, if men had to go through these types of exams, there would be a hell of a lot fewer children.
“Alright,” Dr. Hartmann says when she finishes with the exam and pushes her stool back and stands. “We’ll keep an eye on it, but I’d rather not remove it at this stage.”
“I agree,” I say without thought.
Hildy smirks, very briefly. The nurse draws her blood, and she doesn’t even flinch. Me, I can’t say the same.
When the nurse leaves, Dr. Hartmann looks at us, “Ready for the ultrasound?”
“Yes.” She states as the doctor dims the lights.
“Very romantic,” I whisper, and Hildy smirks.
“I’m going to put some gel on your belly, it will be cool,” she says as she does just that. Then she takes the device, “A little pressure and,” she pauses and turns the screen so we can see it.
Sound. Fast. Rapid. Alive. The heartbeat fills the room, and my throat tightens.
“There we are,” Dr. Hartmann says. “Strong cardiac activity.”
She measures carefully.
“At sixteen weeks gestation, we expect the crown-to-rump measurement to be approximately eleven to twelve centimeters.” Click. “Measuring eleven point nine centimeters. Exactly where we want it.”Exactly.She adjusts the handheld device. “Femur measuring approximately one point nine centimeters. Appropriate for gestational age.”
I note that she does each measurement twice, which means she’s cautious.I like that.
Movement flickers across the screen. I don’t understand the shapes. But I understand that it’s there.
“All indicators are consistent with healthy sixteen-week pregnancies,” she says.
Healthy…
She smiles. “Would you like to know their sex?”
“No,” Hildy says immediately.
“Their?” I ask.
I glance at her. She doesn’t look at me.
Dr. Hartmann smiles knowingly but doesn’t comment. She studies the screen a moment longer than necessary. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad, you’re having twins.”
“What?” Hildy’s voice squeaks.
Me, I say nothing, as I am still a bit… shocked.
