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Shouldn’t the doctor be saying something by now? Am I not pregnant? Is there something wrong with the baby? For crying out loud, say something!
Maceo pries my fingers off his hand and repositions my hand in his to hold me better. I didn’t realize how hard of a death grip I had on him—my knuckles ache. Maceo kisses each one of my fingers and holds my stare with a calmness I lack at the moment.
Wordlessly, the doctor removes the probe and tosses the condom in the trash. His lack of bedside manner makes me fear the worst.
Doctor Stoll taps on the keyboard, and the room erupts in rapid whooshing, pulsing noises. “Congratulations! That’s the recorded sound of two perfectly normal fetal heartbeats.”
Maceo stands to his full height, banging on his chest like King Kong. “YES! I fucking knew it.” He bends over and kisses me full on the lips. “Fuck, beautiful, we’re having multiples.”
I smile, crying happy tears. I’ll never hear the end of this. This is wonderful news.
The doctor turns the monitor so I can see better from my supine position. “You can see here there are two distinct amniotic sacs. They’re about a quarter of an inch from crown to rump.”
Punk squints at the monitor, studying the image. He looks at me with the cheesiest grin. “Way to bake, Jo. I’m not even mad you made me lose the bet.”
Laughing, I wipe away my tears.
Maceo is full of questions. “Are they fraternal or identical? Boys? Girls? Both? How far along are we? When can we have our next ultrasound?”
Doctor Stoll laughs at his eagerness. “We’ll learn more around your thirteenth-week appointment when we’ll be able to see the placenta. If we’re lucky, we may determine the sex then too. I measure your twins at six weeks, four weeks from conception.”
“Everything looks good,” Doctor Stoll says as he helps me sit up, then he drops a bomb. “But I’m going to classify your pregnancy as high risk.”
I’m shocked; he just said everything was fine. “What? Why?”
Maceo wraps an arm around me, his face lined with worry.
“Aside from being pregnant with twins, which already places you at high risk, I’m concerned with your irregular panic disorder. Anxiety can activate the sympathetic nervous system—your fight-or-flight response. This produces the stress hormone cortisol. At high levels, it’s associated with early miscarriage, preeclampsia, fetal-growth restriction, and premature birth.”
My eyes plead with my doctor. “What do I do?”
“You’ll need to have a stress evaluation done. I’m sure your current counselor would be willing to perform one or I can make a recommendation. But please, get this done soon. I want to examine how severe this anxiety disorder is to better prepare us for all potential outcomes.”
“I see my counselor this week—I’ll ask him for the test.”
“Is there anything else she should or shouldn’t be doing? My God, she runs every day. Plus, she’s working nonstop,” Maceo rambles, his voice rising an octave.
Doctor Stoll addresses me. “The important thing is moderation…” I listen to my doctor explain the importance of regular exercise, a balanced diet, getting enough rest, continued therapy, and reducing stressors. “Bottom line, if it upsets you, stop.”
My doctor then looks at Maceo. “Same goes for you, Mister Tabares. It’s normal to be concerned with a new pregnancy, but your partner will pick up on your stress, and likely make her more anxious. Have open communication and call me if there are new developments.”
Doctor Stoll makes a couple of notes on the computer. “You’ll have to have weekly ultrasound appointments to monitor the babies. I’ll have my nurse schedule you for the same time next week.”
Maceo gives a determined nod. I stare blankly at the ceiling, doing my best to control my worry.
