Dr. Morgan points to a blob-looking image. “You have a condition called placenta previa.”
My gaze turns to him, confused and blinking. “What’s placenta previa?”
“It means your baby’s placenta is sitting low in your uterus. If you want a natural delivery, it could block the baby’s exit. You still have a few weeks before we have to worry about that. It could move out of the way by the time you're full term.”
All I heard in his whole sentence was the word baby. I didn’t pay attention to anything he said after that.
"So, there's a baby in there?"
Dr. Morgan lets out a boisterous chuckle. “Yes, there’s a baby in there.”
“And it’s okay?” I ask, panicked about my bleed this morning.
“Yes, Emily, everything is going well.”
He clicks buttons on the ultrasound machine before gliding the wand over my belly for the second time. “See.”
With a smile, he motions his head to the monitor. When I follow his gaze, my heart clutches in my chest. A baby is kicking and wiggling on the screen. It looks like a real baby, too. Not how Jasper appeared the first time I saw him on an ultrasound monitor.
Happy tears spring to my eyes while looking at the precious baby I created with Noah—ourbaby nestled safely in my womb.
“According to my measurements, you're approximately twenty-one weeks pregnant.” My gaped mouth once again causes Dr. Morgan to chuckle. “Would you like to know the sex?”
I shake my head. I don’t know if Noah wants to find out the sex of our baby, and it’s not a decision I’m willing to make without him.
After storing the wand away, Dr. Morgan uses the white cotton sheet to wipe the remnants of the ultrasound gel off my stomach. Once it’s all cleared away, he assists me to a sitting position.
“Here you go.” He hands me a black and white photo of our baby.
“Thank you,” I mumble while drawing the photo in close to my chest.
“We’ll schedule monthly appointments until your third trimester. We’ll also schedule an ultrasound in the last trimester to make sure the placenta has moved out of the way. The bleed may have been from lying down. Sometimes small bleeds sit in pockets along the uterine wall. Once you move to an upright position, it gushes out, making it seem more than it is. Bleeding can be common with placenta previa, but if you bleed again or get any cramps, immediately call my office.”
“Okay,” I respond, nodding.
“I’ll leave you to get dressed, then meet you at the reception desk to make your next appointment.”
Once he leaves the room, I lower the ultrasound photo from my chest to gawk at our precious baby. Happiness is beaming out of me. I smile while getting dressed. I smile while skipping down the hall, and I smile when veering past the bathroom I was certain would have ruined my chance of seeing our baby today.
However, my smile is wiped off my face when I arrive at the reception desk. Noah’s mom is seated behind the counter, liaising with Dr. Morgan.
“Maree, we need to book Emily in for an appointment in four weeks. I'd also like you to schedule a morphology scan. She’s twenty-one weeks pregnant, so the sooner, the better,” Dr. Morgan advises Noah’s mom.
While Dr. Morgan is in her presence, Maree never once falters on her chirpy receptionist demeanor, but the instant he bids me farewell, her eyes narrow into thin slits, and her lip snarls.
“The bastard child is having a bastard; how fitting.”
When she hands me my appointment card, I snatch it out of her hand before storming out of the office. I like Dr. Morgan, but I have to find another obstetrician, because I refuse to let that horrid cow to ruin our joy.
23
Twenty minutes later, as I walk into the entrance of the Ravenshoe Private Hospital, I come to the conclusion that it’s time to tell Noah about our surprise little bundle. Maybe if he knows he has more to come back for, he’ll come back to us sooner.
I stop at the end of the corridor to pull the ultrasound photo out of my purse. Glancing down, I smile at the image of our baby curved in a little ball. His legs are pulled in close to his chest, and he’s showing off his handsome side profile. I didn’t find out the baby’s sex. I’m merely assuming he is a boy since he’s a fighter like his daddy.
After a big exhale, I head to Noah’s room, beyond excited to share my news with Noah. Halfway down the corridor, “Code Blue, Room 34, Code Blue,” blares out the hospital speakers.
When I turn to face the commotion, my heart plummets into my stomach. Nurses and doctors are rushing into Noah’s room. In a state of panic, I drop the ultrasound picture and my purse before sprinting toward them. My heart races faster with every step I take. An odd feeling is bombarding me. It’s both tense and foreign.
