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When I told her that I’d already done it, she smiled and told me that it was just standard procedure.
And now we’re here.
I’ve peed in a cup and written down my name on it. I’ve changed into the yellow-ish gown and the technician has just entered the room.
Her name is Christina and she’s all energetic and happy as she tells me that today she’ll be doing my first ultrasound. She’ll also do an internal pelvic exam, which is basically to quickly check my uterus, cervix and vagina and make sure that everything is okay. Not to mention, she’ll do a pap smear, check my weight and blood pressure and things.
So basically an overall exam to make sure that me and the baby are healthy.
“All of these procedures are very basic and standard,” she says, snapping on her gloves. “There might be some slight discomfort during the pelvic exam but it’s nothing to worry about. If it becomes too uncomfortable, let me know, okay?”
Swallowing, I jerk out a nod. “Okay.”
Once she’s taken my weight and other vitals, she tells me to lie down on my back, with my butt slightly hanging off the edge of the table. She also tells me to put my legs into these archaic-looking metal contraptions called stirrups and relax.
Because this will be quick.
Nothing about it feels quick though.
Especially when she pulls up a stool where my legs are spread and I’m completely exposed under my gown.
I hadn’t realized that I’d grabbed onto the edge of the exam table and all my breaths were tangled up somewhere down my throat and my lungs.
Until him.
Until he appears at my side.
So far he was standing on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall by the door. He kept his eyes on me during the weight check and everything.
As if keeping guard over me. As if Christina meant me some harm.
I don’t know when he moved though.
But he’s here now, at my side, and his long, graceful fingers wrap around my wrist, making me let go of the table. Making me grab onto him instead. And my fingers, they like that so much, so very, very much, that they latch on.
My fingers latch onto his and my breaths come easier.
The surging nausea in my stomach calms down too because he did what he said he’d do. He stocked up on his fabric softener and she likes that, the tiny bundle of cells in my stomach.
And the discomfort.
That vanishes as well because I’m looking at him. Into his eyes.
His molten gray, intense eyes.
I don’t mind the stretch then, of the speculum that Christina has inserted inside me. I think I only wince once and squeeze his hand for like three seconds until I adjust to the pressure. In my head, I take that as a victory.
Not him though.
His fading bruises ripple and he snaps at Christina to be careful.
And even though I say sorry and tell her to keep going — which she does after looking slightly intimidated by Reed — and stare up at him and shake my head, I can’t stop my ballerina heart from spinning.
I can’t stop myself from going breathless again when his jaw clenches, making me aware that he doesn’t like that. Me asking him to hold back.
A second later though, Christina’s voice breaks our stare when she says, “And there’s the tiny little thing. The baby.”
At this, we both snap our eyes to the monitor so we can see her.
Or at least see something.
Because for the love of God, I can’t.
I cannot see our baby.
And I tell her that and laughing, she points it out for me. The little dot that’s supposed to be her. She also tells me that the due date is in July.
My stomach flutters and I know it’s not her but still. I’m assuming that it is and I’ll keep assuming until she does move inside of me.
But anyway, Reed sees her right away and I’m not going to lie, I hate him a little bit for that. That he could see her while I couldn’t.
Although my ire melts away when he asks Christina to make four copies of it.
Of her.
And he does it while his fingers flex against mine.
Soon though, I have to let go of them, his fingers, because it’s over. And Christina tells us that the doctor is waiting for us in her office.
Dr. May is a friendly woman in her fifties maybe who asks me all kinds of questions. She takes my complete family medical history and prescribes me prenatal vitamins. She hands me pamphlets that I can read and get myself informed about the upcoming changes in my body and tells me to call the office any time I feel the need to.
Then it’s Reed’s turn.
To ask questions.
And he has a lot of them. The very first one is what the fuck can we do about my morning sickness. And why the fuck won’t it go away? And what the fuck we can do to give me a break from it?
