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I remember enough from my OB/GYN rotation to know what I’m looking at it, but it’s still helpful to have Lindsey’s input.
“So with the first ultrasound, we’re looking to check on the placenta, umbilical cord, fetal size, and heartbeat. We’re also confirming the number of babies.”
My chest contracts. My eyes fly to hers. “Oh dear God, please—”
She laughs, smoothing the probe across my skin, below my navel. “Relax. It looks like there’s only one.”
Connor chuckles under his breath as he brushes his thumb across the back of my hand. I’m careful not to look at him as she continues, vigilantly keeping my eyes on the screen. It’s imperative that I keep it together because this all suddenly feels more real than ever.
Lindsey rattles off facts and figures while she clicks different buttons on the machine. Everything is developing normally, according to her, and I’m so relieved.
Then she moves the probe to re-center it over my uterus and zooms in.
Right away, I catch the little butterfly flutters of a heart at work, tiny, rapid-fire movements Lindsey points at before she flips a switch and the silence in the room is suddenly interrupted by sharp rhythmic whooshes, one right after the other, amplified by the ultrasound machine. It’s the sound of the baby’s heart valves opening and closing, and Lindsey tracks them.
“Fetal heartbeat is strong. About 160 beats per minute, which is perfectly normal for this stage.”
She hits another button and an image prints out. “And these are limb buds,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The feet and the hands. And there’s a little head.”
“Connor, can you see it?” I ask, my voice high. I’m actually near tears.
“Yes, I see,” he assures me.
Lindsey switches the ultrasound machine back to its standard mode and the sound of the heartbeat disappears. Instantly, I miss it.
“I always think it looks like a little gummy bear at this stage,” Lindsey says with a smile as she moves the probe around to take a few more measurements. “The crown-rump length has the fetus measuring at about seven weeks and six days.”
She prints out another picture. Rips it off the printer and hands it over to us.
“There’s your little one.”
She wipes off her probe and hands me some napkins to clean myself off. Once I’m sitting up, cradling the photo in my hand, Lindsey stands.
“I’ll put in an order for blood work. At eight weeks, we run a genetic screen.”
“That will confirm the baby’s gender as well, right?” Connor asks.
Lindsey nods. “Yes, that’s included in the panel, though we’ll look to the twenty-week anatomy scan to confirm it.”
“Since Natalie wasn’t taking prenatal vitamins for the first few weeks, she’s probably low on iron, calcium, and folate. Should we—”
She holds up her hands to stop him. “I’m sure the baby is just fine. I see what Natalie eats and it’s a varied enough diet that the fetus likely got everything it required. Besides, they’re pretty good leeches. They’ll take whatever they need from their mother. Still, she should continue taking her prenatal vitamin and a vitamin D supplement.”
I wave my hand out to get their attention.
“I’m sorry, I still exist. You guys can see me, right?”
Connor ignores me. “And surgeries in the burn unit? Will the heat be an issue?”
I don’t let Lindsey take this one. “Connor, I know what I can and cannot do, and I’m not going to stop operating just because I’m pregnant. That’s ludicrous.”
Lindsey smiles reassuringly at him. “The heat will only be an issue if she’s dehydrated.” Then she turns to me. “Natalie, drink as much Gatorade and water as you can handle. Take breaks if needed. You should be fine though. You’re in great shape and your body is used to operating in those conditions.”
Thank you. Finally, someone with common sense.
“Now, you’ll have to find someone else to take over your care before your next appointment since you probably don’t want me doing exams on you.”
I gulp. “I’d rather die, so yeah, I’ll find another doctor.”
“It wouldn’t be that weird. You realize I do this for a living, right?”
“Listen, Lindsey, obviously you and I will eventually divorce our future husbands and live out our days like two old lesbians, but for right now, I just don’t think I need my best friend getting up close and personal with my vagina. You are not delivering this baby no matter how normal you try to make it sound.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “All right, I’ll get you a list of doctors I’d recommend.”
Then she pats Connor on the shoulder and exits stage left.
I’m left in the exam room alone with him. The air is strained with silence, but it doesn’t necessarily feel worrisome. He steps closer to me and holds his hand out for the ultrasound photo.
After I hand it off carefully, he looks down at it, quiet for a long moment.
