“I don’t see a reason why not,” I say honestly.
A knock at the door signals the end of my mommy domination, and the doctor steps inside, stopping as she sees all of us.
“Hello,” she says. The doctor has short, curly hair, tanned skin, and light wrinkles across her skin. She’s a Latina woman with glasses and I’d place her as being in her early sixties. “I’m Dr. Ramirez. We have a full house today, I see. Any nerves in the room?”
Winter and I nod as she shuts the door behind her, a folder in her hand as walks to a little swivel chair in the corner.
“That’s normal,” she says. “There are so many emotional butterflies around babies and pregnancy. You’re Cassidy, right?”
“I am,” I say, swinging my legs up carefully onto the table and laying back. It doesn’t hurt, I simply am so used to being in pain, my default is to be cautious.
“I’m going to fold your shirt up and tuck your skirt down so I can access your abdomen,” she says, washing her hands before she pulls on a pair of gloves.
Sitting down on her chair, she wheels over to where her cart is tucked out of the way before stopping next to me. Dr. Ramirez glances at me for consent, waiting until I give it before she pulls up my shirt to my bra line and tucks down my skirt.
The ugly pattern of my knife wound sits on stark relief along my skin and her gaze remains there for a moment. Kind caramel eyes fly up to mine, and I can read the concern there.
“I’m fine now,” I reassure her. “I had emergency surgery six weeks ago. That’s how they found out I was pregnant.”
“I see. You haven’t had any vaginal bleeding or cramping, right?” she asks, picking up a squeeze bottle. When I shake my head she relaxes slightly. “Okay, this is KY jelly. It’s been warmed up, so it shouldn’t be too cold.”
Upending the bottle, she squeezes lightly, making sure there’s enough on my stomach before she exchanges the bottle for a wand.
“This is going to be how we hear the baby’s heartbeat,” she explains. “Don’t be surprised if it takes me a second to find it. The baby is tiny and will often play hide and seek. As they develop, they have less room and can’t escape me.”
I huff out a laugh as she winks at me, finding myself relaxing as she turns on the machine and begins to run it over my abdomen. Anticipation builds in the room until Bellamy can’t take it and moves behind me. Lifting my hand I let him take it while the doctor continues to move the wand.
“Hmm,” Dr. Ramirez says, adjusting her glasses as she thinks. “Can you turn to your side, please? I’d ask you to arch back but?—”
“My bruised ribs would hate that,” I admit.
The skin along my abdomen is shades of green, and I know that she can see it all. Dr. Ramirez glances over her shoulder, her eyes dropping to the gun and holster in Abbott’s lap.
“This is hers,” he says, shrugging. “Cass can beat me up any day of the week, and regularly spars with me when she’s not injured. She got hurt saving both herself and our omegas from a really fucked up situation. I swear on my life we aren’t a threat to her.”
Satisfied, she nods, turning back to me.
“Had to be sure,” she mumbles, watching as Bellamy helps me turn to face her. As if by magic, when Dr. Ramirez begins to move the Doppler machine over my skin, the whooshing sound changes to a heartbeat.
“Is…” My eyes get glassy as I listen in shock, and Bellamy’s hand on my shoulder squeezes it.
“Wow,” he whispers.
“That’s your baby,” she says with a grin. “You’re a playful one, aren’t you, Little One? I knew you’d let me find you if I was patient.”
The easy way she talks to my baby fills me with emotion, and I find myself quietly sobbing. Bending down until his lips are at my ear, Bell whispers, “It’s real now. You can enjoy it, baby.”
And that’s the kicker. I haven’t been able to enjoy being pregnant because I didn’t want to hope. I’ve been reading articles on the internet about this, and they say that it doesn’t feel real until you hear the heartbeat.
Now I get it. Holy shit.
“Congratulations, Mom,” Dr. Ramirez says, turning off the Doppler machine. “It’s official. We’ll get some baby images for you soon. This is to make sure everything is good to go and it is. Do you have any questions?”
Pushing backward on her chair to give me room as she cleans off the probe, she also hands me tissues. Wiping the jelly off my stomach, I think about her question.
“My uterus was very scarred when I was a teenager. I was sexually attacked, and I ended up contracting an infection,” I explain. “Will that affect carrying the baby to term?”
“It shouldn’t,” she says as I push myself to a sitting position. “We’ll watch your pregnancy closely, and see how things go. So far, the baby looks really good.”
