‘Hi, Netta, I’m Teresa,’ the woman said, clutching a clipboard. ‘I’ll be doing your dating scan today. Follow me.’ Teresa’s sensible shoes made quiet squooshing noises with every step as they walked up the carpet-tiled hall. ‘We’re just in here.’
Netta followed her into a small, pin drop–quiet room with a collection of screens, a paper-covered vinyl bed at its centre and the sort of cool, manufactured lighting that would be hellishly unflattering in a swimwear shop change room but that always seemed weirdly reassuring in a medical setting. The walls were painted the exact shade of creamy nothing as the desk in the corner and a pale blue privacy curtain hung from a track in the ceiling, ready to screen the bed from the small, desperately uncomfortable-looking couch that sat under the frosted window. To Netta, it seemed far too bland and clinical to be a place where something as magical as seeing her baby for the first time could be about to happen. Some fairy lights and a water feature wouldn’t go astray.
‘Okay then, let’s get you up onto the bed, shall we?’ said Teresa.
Netta took a slow breath to steady her thundering heartbeat and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, passing her handbag to Freya, who had perched herself on the couch. The paper slipped and squeaked against the vinyl as Netta spun herself to lie down, the pillow releasing a puff of air under the weight of her head.
‘Okay, so by dates, we’re thinking you’re around eight weeks pregnant, is that correct?’
Netta nodded. ‘Ish,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know until a couple of days ago that I was pregnant.’
‘And this is your first pregnancy?’
‘It is.’
‘Right, let’s have a look.’ Teresa instructed Netta to lift her top and wriggle her pants down until they just covered her pubic bone. She briskly tucked a paper towel into the waistband. ‘This stuff can get a little messy,’ she said in explanation, holding a bottle of gel up for Netta to see. ‘I’m going to squirt some of this onto your lower belly—it can feel a little chilly—and then we’ll have a look with this.’ She showed Netta the ultrasound wand.
Teresa spread the gel with the probe and then got to work, pressing and pushing, this way and that, trying to get a good view of the embryo that would become Netta’s longed-for baby. The screen gave Netta nothing, just a mass of black and white static, morphing every time Teresa moved the wand into a new position. A crease settled between Teresa’s eyebrows as she worked.
‘I’m having a bit of trouble finding your little one,’ Teresa announced in an even, emotionless voice. ‘They can be very good at hiding when they’re this little. I’d like to try an internal ultrasound with your permission. They can give a clearer picture.’
Netta’s racing heart slowed to a limp. She nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘It involves inserting a transvaginal probe,’ Teresa continued. ‘It shouldn’t hurt but it can be a little uncomfortable.’
‘Whatever you need to do,’ said Netta.
‘Alright then.’ Teresa passed Netta a wad of paper towel. ‘Wipe the gel off, and I’ll need you to go and empty your bladder. Toilets are three doors down to the left.’
After the longest wee of her life, Netta returned, her jaw set, her body holding her breath in every cell, as though it might somehow safeguard her baby. Teresa closed a privacy curtain around the bed. ‘Take everything off from the waist down,’ she said. ‘And then make yourself comfy. I’ll be back shortly.’
‘You okay, hon?’ Freya’s voice floated over the curtain as Netta stripped her jeans and knickers off.
‘Yeah.’ Netta hesitated. ‘Actually, no,’ she said. ‘I don’t know. I just want to know if everything’s okay.’ She bundled up her clothes, set them on a stool next to the bed, and lay down, pulling the coarse hospital-style blanket Teresa had left for her up to her waist. Her breath snagged as she heard the sonographer re-enter the room.
‘Are you ready, Netta?’
‘Yep.’
Teresa whizzed the curtain back just enough to step through and snapped it shut again behind her. Netta watched as Teresa prepared the probe, covering it with a thin latex sheath and smearing it with lubricant.
‘Okay, bend your knees and tip them out to the sides. Try to relax,’ Teresa said. ‘I know it’s easier said than done.’
Netta closed her eyes and took a couple of slow, deliberate breaths. ‘I’m ready.’
Teresa inserted the probe and turned her attention to the screen. ‘There we are,’ she said, indicating a tiny blob on the screen. ‘Hello, little one.’
A wave of relief flooded Netta’s body. ‘Is it okay?’
‘I’m just going to do some measurements and then I’ll check the heartbeat.’
Teresa’s poker face gave nothing away as she criss-crossed Netta’s precious baby with thin lines on the screen, click-clacking her findings onto the keyboard with lightning-fast fingers.
‘Okay,’ Teresa said. ‘I’m going to measure the heart rate now. We don’t listen in this early on, so you won’t be able to hear it, I’m afraid.’
Teresa adjusted the position of the probe, the crease between her brows deepening.
‘Alright,’ said Teresa after a few moments. ‘I’m going to remove the probe now and you can get dressed. The results will be with your GP by tomorrow if you’d like to go and have a chat about it—they’ll be able to discuss them with you in detail, but I think we might schedule another scan for a couple of weeks or so. The baby’s measurements and heart rate aren’t quite aligning with the dates you’ve given, so we’ll have another go in a fortnight and see how things are progressing.’
