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I lie back on the exam table for my twenty-eight-week appointment. Inching my shirt up, I suck in a deep breath and prepare for the cold gel to hit my belly.
“Yes,” Devlyn and I say simultaneously, then smile at each other.
Dr. Webster told us ultrasounds aren’t done as frequently during normal pregnancies, but because of my blood pressure changes and increased anxiety, she added two more to the schedule. One today and another at week thirty-two. Either way, I get another snapshot of our little one to add to the album.
The gel hits my belly and I squeeze Devlyn’s hand. He squeezes back. Then Dr. Webster presses the wand to my gel-coated skin and moves it around. Three sets of eyes fixate on the monitor as the blurry image becomes slightly sharper. Head, body, and four little limbs.
My vision blurs as tears flood my eyes. Devlyn tightens his hold on my hand. The room utterly silent except for the fluttering sound of a rapid heartbeat through the ultrasound machine.
“Spine looks good.” Dr. Webster traces her finger over the screen. “Everything looks on track.” She presses a button on the machine and snaps the image. Her gaze meets mine, then Devlyn’s. “Still don’t want to know the sex.”
I shake my head and Devlyn does the same.
“Okay.” Her smile widens as if she has the answer on the tip of her tongue. “Just going to take a few measurements.”
She shifts the wand over my round belly and pauses when she has a better view of the baby’s head. She clicks a few buttons and moves on. All too soon, she removes the wand, cleans it and my belly, then makes notes in my chart before handing over our new photo.
“Everything looks great. Keep up with your vitamins and relaxation.” She sets the chart on the counter and washes her hands. “Have you been experiencing any cramps, pain, nausea, shortness of breath?”
I shake my head as I tug my shirt back into place. “No.”
Drying her hands, she resumes her spot on her stool. “Cramps and tightness are normal. How’s the swelling been?”
“Better.” Devlyn’s been a trooper, making sure we walk each night, if only to the end of the street and back.
“And the baby’s been as active or more?”
I rub a hand over my belly. “Yes.” I peer up at Devlyn. “Our little water aerobics instructor.”
Dr. Webster laughs. “That’s a new one, but cute.” She offers her hand and I take it. Devlyn places one on my back and helps ease me upright. “If you notice any changes that aren’t normal or just feel off, call the office. But with everything we saw today, your little water aerobics instructor looks healthy and fit and right where they should be.”
At the reception desk, I double-check the next appointment date and time. We exit the office, slip into the car, and buckle our belts. Devlyn cranks the engine, then looks at me over the console.
“I have an idea, if you’re up for it.”
I arch a brow at him. “Will there be food?”
He looks up, left then right, before meeting my eyes. “Kind of,” he says on a laugh.
“Count me in.”
TWENTY
DEVLYN
Maybe this wasn’tsuch a great idea.
I love color. I love seeing a wide palette of colors. But this… this is too much.
Every shade of pink—although I have a new appreciation for the color since Shelly—and blue, green and yellow, gray and khaki. Bolds and neutrals. Onesies and jumpers. Pajamas and long shirts. Pants with snaps from heel to crotch on both legs. Lace and frill. Sports logos and popular cartoon characters. Farm animals as well as sea creatures.
The baby and children’s section in Target is bigger than any other section. Well, unless you go to toys. It has every possible thing you may need for a baby. Bibs and diapers. Clothing and bedding. Strollers and bouncy seats. Training potties and bathtubs. Bottles and nipples. Who knew there were so many types of nipples?Jesus.
And then I laugh. Shelly looks at me with pinched brows. “What’s so funny?”
“Have you ever had the urge to screamnipplesin the baby section? Like it’s a eureka moment.”
Shelly snorts, then stops and presses her legs together. “Stop it.” She slaps my arm. “You’ll make me pee.”
