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“We’re ready!” I call out, and Frankie glares at me.
As the doctor enters, he steps around the monitor and sits next to me. I pull down the sleeves of my cardigan over my hands and stare up at the ceiling.
He starts the machine, and a low hum fills the room. He picks up a stick looking thing. I bite back a laugh as he squirts some lube on it and Frankie clears his throat.
“Okay, Zara. If you can take a deep breath in for me and then slowly let it out, I will insert the transvaginal probe inside. It will be cold, but hopefully not too uncomfortable,” the doctor says matter-of-factly.
I respond by nodding and taking a deep breath.
“Good girl,” the doctor says.
A growl rumbles through Frankie’s chest and his jaw tightens as he glares at the doctor. I grab his hand in mine and dig my nails into the skin.
I release my breath through my nose and wince as the cold object slides into me.
“Okay, nearly there, Zara. Relax for me,” the doctor says in a soothing tone.
I take in another breath, keeping my eyes locked on Frankie’s.
His face softens as I smile at him.
The monitor starts making rumbling noises, so I look over at all the gray and black on the screen and try to make out what the hell it all is. The doctor wiggles the probe around and I bite down on my lip, completely on edge, waiting to see something, anything appear.
“Well?” Frankie asks.
The doctor doesn’t reply. He’s fixated on the screen.
Frankie's grip on my hand tightens, providing a reassuring squeeze as my fear intensifies.
“Ah-ha. Gotcha.” The doctor beams and turns the screen to face us.
“There you have it.” He points to the little blob on the screen, and my eyes start to sting.
Our baby.
My attention is completely captivated by it.
Dr. Edwards clicks a few buttons, and a white line appears over the picture. “From this, I’d say you are around eleven weeks.”
Frankie's bloodshot eyes meet mine, filled with sadness.
“Would you like to keep some images?” the doctor asks, I can’t stop looking at Frankie. Why the hell is he so pale? Neither of us reply.
“Please,” I whisper.
My heart is in my throat. Something is wrong.
“Would you mind giving us a minute when you're finished?” I ask the doctor.
“Of course.”
He continues taking a few more measurements. We all sit in silence until he finishes and quietly leaves.
I pull my dress back down and toss the paper in the trash, sitting in front of an unmoving Frankie, who looks as though he is about to throw up.
“Hey.” I cup his cheek.
Nothing. I place a kiss on his cheek.
