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I'm not sure if I believe her. Then again, I'm not sure of anything lately. But she sounds confident, and assures me again that she's here if I need anything. The message is clear, though.
This is my responsibility.
BY THE TIME OFour 35 week ultrasound, things are still tense. He holds my hand as we walk into the office, and he's constantly attentive when I'm moving around or seeming uncomfortable, but he's still distant. Like if he's not doing something to protect me or keep an eye on me, he's mentally someplace else.
The last few weeks have been rough. For me, the therapy is helping. Meeting with Danielle every week has actually become one of the highlights I look forward to. She doesn't try to force anything out of me or make me feel like she's judging the decisions I've made. But Easton still refuses to see anyone.
As if seeing a therapist would make him less of a man.
Less of a protector.
I've tried to get him to at least confide in me, but he blows me off. He says there is nothing to talk about. That the whole incident was caused by Alec and he won't allow himself to feel sorry for the psycho. And in a way, I get that. But he watched someone die. I have a hard time believing that had zero effect on him, especially when he's so different.
He doesn't make any attempt at getting me to be with him again. Doesn't try to kiss me or take things to another level again. He's just there, existing with me but not anything near the guy he was during that last party. The one who kissed me just to shut me up.
My last hope is this.
Seeing our baby on ultrasound.
Hearing his little heartbeat.
I just hope it works.
The technician calls my name and the two of us get up, following her back into a room. Easton takes the chair while I get up onto the table. She helps me roll my pants down, being as my belly is so big now I can't see anything past it, and I lay back.
“Are you excited?” she asks. “You're getting so close.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I can't wait to meet him. And you know, having his feet out of my ribs will be nice, too.”
She chuckles. “My second was like that. Actually cracked one of my ribs by kicking so hard.”
“That can happen?” Easton interjects.
“Oh, yeah,” she tells him. “But don't worry. It's not life-threatening. Just painful.”
That seems to calm him down as he relaxes back in the chair. I squeeze his hand as if silently assuring him that I'm okay, but I'm disappointed when he doesn't squeeze back—going just as distant and cold again as he has been lately.
“All right,” she announces. “Let's get a good look at this little guy.”
As he appears on the screen, it's amazing to see how big he's grown. He doesn't look like a tiny alien anymore. His body has filled out more and he looks healthy. My heart swells as I watch while she moves the wand around my stomach, taking measurements to obtain his size. But Easton is still checked out.
“Want to see something cool?” the tech asks me.
I nod, and when she hits a few buttons, our baby's face appears on the screen. Not in a way where we can see his brain, but where I can see how he looks. His button nose and his plump lips.
He looks like Easton.
A tear slips out and down my cheek, and that's when I feel it. Easton's hand squeezes mine. I turn to look at him, but find him staring at the screen. His mouth is open as he breathes heavily, and I watch as he has his first ever emotional reaction in weeks, staring at our son.
“He's perfect,” I whisper.
He snorts, but doesn't take his eyes off the screen. “He's half you, what did you expect?”
The technician smiles at us both. “I told you that you were going to make a beautiful baby.”
She shows us a few more angles, and we watch as he sucks his thumb and rubs his hand over his face. By the time the appointment is over, I wish I could relive it again and again. But unfortunately, she takes the wand off my stomach and turns the screen away from us.
“So, he's measuring a little ahead of schedule,” she tells us. “Don't be surprised if he ends up coming a little early. As of next week, you're considered full term.”
