They stared at each other. The baby’s mouth opened in a gummy smile, then a little coo, and Rolani went still.
“What you looking at, little man?” he said quietly. “Is that you smelling like shit?”
His mother laughed before holding him up to smell him.
“Nope, not this one.”
The baby kicked his legs, still locked on Rolani’s face like he was the most interesting thing in the room.
Before he could say anything else, a nurse opened the door and called a name. A woman stood, waddling toward the back, her partner trailing behind.
Rolani watched them disappear down the hallway, his eyes scanning the room again. He wasn’t sure what a doctor’s office was supposed to look like, but he could appreciate how clean it was. He had to trust Kennedi knew what was best.
Another name was called. Then another. Each time the door opened, his attention snapped to it. Soon he’d have to step out to calm his nerves.
“Kennedi Walters?”
Finally.
Rolani stood immediately, pulling her up with him. His hand never left hers as they followed the nurse down the hallway, past rooms with closed doors and muffled voices. She led them into a small exam room—a table in the center, an ultrasound machine in the corner, and posters on the wall about prenatal care.
“Dr. Khalifa will be right in,” the nurse said with a warm smile before closing the door behind her.
Rolani helped Kennedi onto the table. The paper crinkled under her. He stayed close, thumb brushing circles on the back of her hand.
“You comfortable?”
“Yeah, you can relax.”
A knock at the door, then it opened.
Dr. Khalifa stepped in with a warm smile. She was an older Black woman with gray locs pulled back, kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. She moved like someone who had delivered thousands of babies.
“Good morning,” she said. “Kennedi, nice to see you again. It’s been too long. And you must be Dad?”
“Yes, ma’am. Rolani Pracher.” He stood, shaking her hand firmly.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Pracher,” she said. “Thank you for being here. I’m sure mom and baby appreciate it.”
“There’s no other place I’d rather be.”
“Alright, that’s what I like to hear. Let’s get started,” Dr. Khalifa said, adjusting the exam table. “Kennedi, go ahead and lie back. We’ll take a look at this little one.”
Rolani moved closer as Kennedi settled back, her hand immediately finding his. The doctor pulled up her dress, exposing the small swell of her stomach, and squeezed gel onto her skin.
“This might be cold,” Dr. Khalifa warned, and Kennedi flinched slightly when the transducer touched her. “Mom, how have you been feeling? Any concerns?”
When the screen flickered to life, Rolani sat up straighter.
“No concerns, the nausea is passing, and I have a little of my energy back.”
“Dad, how are you?”
“Uhm…” he stuttered, lost, looking at their baby on the screen. His baby. Moving. Real. A full face, hands he could count the fingers on, legs kicking against the screen like he already had somewhere to be.
“Lani…” Kennedi said, grabbing his hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just can’t believe this.”
