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He moves the wand around and points out the sex organs on both babies. “There you go. Both clearly boys. Eighteen weeks is fairly early to tell, and I am supposed to add that there is a small chance of getting it wrong, but I believe it’s fairly clear in this case.”
I look up at Saxon, who runs a hand through his hair. “Two sons,” he says. “Jesus.”
It is, of course, a huge shock for me, but I can’t imagine how he’s feeling. Yesterday, he had an ordinary life—he didn’t even know he was going to be a father. Today, he’s having twins! The poor guy.
Mathew looks from him to me, and his expression softens, as if he’s realizing what a shock this must be for both of us. He gets a tissue and wipes away the gel on my tummy, then reaches for another device. It has what looks like another wand attached to a speaker. “This is a Fetal Doppler,” he says, turning it on. He rests the wand on my tummy. “The whooshing noise is fetal blood flow through the umbilical cord.” He moves it around a little, then stops. The air fills with a clippety-cloppety noise like a galloping horse. “There’s Baby One’s heartbeat,” he says.
My eyes fill with tears. “Oh my God,” I whisper, pressing my fingers to my lips.
He moves it around again. “And there’s Baby Two’s. Both around one hundred and thirty beats per minute—that’s very good.”
I look up at Saxon, whose eyes are filled with wonder. Whatever it means for the two of us, for our lives, it’s still a miraculous event.
Mathew turns the monitor off, then presses a button and retrieves a piece of paper as it’s printed. “Here you go,” he says, handing it to me. The two babies are clearly visible on it, inasmuch as they look like two potatoes. “They’re about the size of an artichoke or a bell pepper,” he says, sticking to the vegetable theme. He points to a chart on the wall. “This is what they look like at eighteen weeks.” They look like babies—with a head, arms, and legs. “They have fingerprints now,” he says, “and they can hear you, too.”
I take the paper and stare at it. “Thank you,” I say, wiping my cheeks. “I appreciate that.”
“You’re very welcome. Now, come and sit down.” He goes over to the desk. Saxon gently lowers my T-shirt, then helps me down from the table, and we sit back in the chairs. “Like I said, I fitted you in this morning, but I’d like to do a longer scan next week.”
I swallow hard. Saxon has been quiet, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s the father, and he’s a rich guy, and I’m sure he’s expecting me to ask him to pay for private care. But that’s not my way. I’ve always coped on my own, and I don’t expect this to be any different. He said all maternity care is free unless you go private, so there’s no reason I can’t track down a clinic and go there.
“I’m not sure yet whether I’ll come back here,” I whisper.
Mathew exchanges a glance with Saxon.
“We’ll talk about that,” Saxon says.
Mathew nods. “Either way, you should have a proper anatomy scan over the next week or two. And in the meantime, I’d like you to think about your diet.”
I rest a hand on my tummy. “Have I caused any damage by not eating properly?”
“Almost certainly not. Babies tend to take what they need from Mum. And the fact that you don’t smoke or drink are two great things you’ve already done for baby.”
I flush, taken aback by the compliment.
“But you are underweight,” he continues, “and going forward, you really need to eat better. No fast food, and lots of fresh fruit and vegetables. You’ll need more calories, not less, as your pregnancy progresses. We tend to say 2,200 to 2,500 calories per day for women pregnant with twins. Lean proteins, iron-rich foods, fruit and veg, nuts and seeds, low-fat dairy, and drink plenty of water.” He hands me a leaflet. “This will explain it all and give you some ideas for recipes. Graze through the day rather than having one big meal, as indigestion might be a problem later. Lots of snacks! Saxon?”
“I’ll sort it,” he states. I glance at him, but he doesn’t look at me.
“All right,” Mathew says. “Catie, can you pop to the Ladies’ and do a urine test now? Then I’ll send you for a blood test.” He gives me a small pot. I take it and get up on shaky legs. “Just out and to the left,” he says, and I go out, still clutching the piece of paper with my babies on it.
*
Saxon
I watch Catie go, then look at Mathew as he leans back in his chair.
“Bit of a shock,” he says.
“No shit, Sherlock.” I inhale. I’m shaking a little. “Honestly, is she okay?”
“We’ll check her bloods—she might be a little anemic, but I think otherwise she’s fine. Yes, she’s a bit underweight, but the babies are a good size, and their heart rates are fine. She does need to eat more, though.”
“I’ll talk to her about it.”
He purses his lips and studies me. “What did she mean about not being sure whether she’s coming back here?”
“I don’t know the whole story, but you heard what she said about her parents dying. I don’t know who she’s been living with, but I suspect they haven’t been caring for her very well. The night I met her in Auckland, she was about to leave for Wellington. She said she doesn’t know anyone here, and I don’t think she’s made a lot of friends. She lives alone, and she obviously doesn’t have any money. She’s very defensive, and she’s going to be reluctant to accept any help or money from me.”
