Husband.
I know it’s just a formality, but the thought that the title could be revoked doesn’t sit well with me at all.
“I’m going to do a quick exam. Based on your last period, you’re estimated to be around eight weeks, so we should be good to do an abdominal ultrasound. And once we’re finished, your lab work should be done, so we can look at everything. But before we get started, do you have any questions or concerns?”
“Just one,” Brielle says softly. “When I was younger, I had an abortion. I looked it up, and it said that, generally, it shouldn’t affect future pregnancies, but it was, um …”
She takes a deep breath, and I step next to her, threading my fingers through hers for moral support.
Another exhale.
“It was forced and possibly not done in sterile conditions. So, um …”
Dr. Drescher reaches out and gently pats Brielle’s knee. “We will double- and triple-check everything, I promise.”
“Thank you,” Brielle chokes out. “I’ve just wanted to be a mom for so long, and I don’t want anything to go wrong.”
The doctor does a quick exam, confirming everything looks normal, and then she grabs the machine and wheels it over.
“Go ahead and drape this over your legs so we can lift your gown,” the doctor says, handing her what looks like a plastic towel.
When Brielle lifts her gown, exposing her belly, it’s no longer flat.
“What?” she asks.
“Your belly’s grown.” I grin.
She glances down and smiles. “Yeah, I didn’t think I would show so soon, but I read everyone’s different. Dani didn’t show until she was in her third trimester!”
Dr. Drescher chuckles. “I forgot you’re related to Daniella. How is she, Matteo, and the baby doing?”
“Good,” Brielle tells her. “Alba is growing so fast. I was gone for a month, and I swear she gained five pounds and grew four inches.”
The doctor laughs. “They grow too quickly. Now, let’s see what we’re working with.”
She squirts some blue shit on Brielle’s belly and clicks the mouse a few times. The screen is grainy, and since I’ve never been in this situation, I have no clue what we’re looking at.
After a few moments, the doctor reaches for the screen and turns a knob, and a loud whooshing sound fills the otherwise quiet room.
“This is your baby’s heartbeat.”
Brielle sniffles. “There’s really a baby in there?” she whispers.
“Oh, yes.” The doctor smiles. “You see this little flutter?” She points at the screen. “That’s your baby. And based on my calculations, you’re nine weeks along and due on November 8.”
“And … does everything look okay?” Brielle asks, squeezing my hand tighter.
“You’re still in the first trimester, so anything is possible. Butyour baby has a strong heartbeat, and everything looks good. I’m going to look at the blood work, and then we’ll know more.”
She clicks a few keys and then reaches down, pulling something out. “Here you go.” She hands Brielle one set of images and me the other. “Your baby’s first photo shoot.”
38
Brielle
When I arrivedat my appointment, I knew I was pregnant—but knowing it and seeing it with my own eyes is a completely different story.
The blood work all came back good, and the doctor included an envelope with the baby’s gender in case we wanted to do some sort of reveal.
