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With newfound determination, I pick up my phone and start searching for clinics in the next town over. I want to keep this quiet, and the last thing I need is a chance run-in with someone from our town who wouldn't think twice about spreading the news.
Within an hour, I have an appointment scheduled at a small clinic in Silverton. I told them over the phone that I’m a tourist. I said that I’m being seen by someone in Cali but want a quick scan for some reassurance. They accepted easily and said that I could come in.
The drive to Silverton is consumed by a whirlpool of emotions—fear, anticipation, hope. Worries gnaw away my peace – will the baby be healthy? Am I prepared to be a mom? How will Dad react when he eventually finds out? And most importantly, should I tell Zak that Baby is his?
Wrapped in the crisp, impersonal sheets of the clinic bed, I hear the room hum with an anxious stillness. My heart pounds nervously in my chest, each beat echoing louder in my ears.
The cold jelly spread on my abdomen jolts me back to reality. I watch as the ultrasound tech silently slides her instrument over my belly, her eyes pinned to the glowing screen next to her.
The tech shifts the wand, her expression a mask of professional calm as she stares at the screen next to her.
“Yeah,” the kind nurse begins.
I feel extremely vulnerable right now, lying on top of a cold, clinical bed with white sheets that get replaced for each patient. My belly is cold from the jelly she put on to do the ultrasound.
"You'll be happy to know, momma, they're all okay."
I sigh with relief.
My baby is okay. It feels much more real now. Just then, my brain catches up to what the woman told me.
“Wait - wait, did you say they?” I laugh a little as I speak to hide my nervousness.
"Yes, sweetie," she looks at me, confused, as if this isn't completely new, life-altering information.
"Oh, so I'm having twins," I say, more to myself than anything.
"Oh no, sweetie," she turns around the monitor to show me.
Suddenly, her eyes twinkle with a surprise hidden behind a sea of professionalism. I think at that moment, she knows I haven't seen any other doctor. She knows this is my first time hearing my baby's heartbeat.
"Oh my," she whispers. I sit upright, heart jumping in anticipation, the sudden fear of something being wrong creeping into the corners of my brain.
"Triplets," she breathes out, turning the screen towards me. My eyes widen, my mind struggling to register her words. "See here, these are three separate amniotic sacs. You're having triplets." There they are, the tiniest little specks engulfed in the monochrome universe of the ultrasound.
A symphony of three heartbeats fills the room, harmonizing like a fantastical melody that dances in rhythm, creating an orchestration of life inside my own body. The screen glows with the image of three tiny beings sharing their first reserved space in the world - my womb.
My mind spins, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to sweep me away. Triplets! The sheer incredulity of it all is both unnerving and strangely heartening. Multiplying joy, multiplying fears. Triple the responsibility, triple the love.
A soft gasp escapes my lips. I am to be a mother, not just for one, but for three separate lives. It is daunting and beautiful all at once. The enormity of it washes over me as I feel each tiny heartbeat inside me burrow even deeper to the very core of my being.
"Congratulations," the ultrasound tech says, breaking through my whirl of thoughts. Her smile is warm, the earlier surprise drowned in the sea of compassion and joy reflected in her eyes.
As I thank her and walk out of the clinic, the sense of wonder refuses to fade. My mind is filled with cluttered images of three cribs, three feeding bottles, and three identical faces mirroring my own. I am overwhelmed, not knowing how to respond, whom to share this with, or how to prepare for such a significant change.
But inside me, three heartbeats persist, three lives growing, echoing the beautiful affirmation of life's miracle in the most vivid way ever. So, I let out a laugh—one that carries fear, joy, disbelief, and determination, all bundled into a euphoric soundtrack reverberating through the heart of Silverton. At that moment, I am not just a mother-to-be—I am a fortress, a shield, a world unto three beautiful beings that unknowingly tug at my heartstrings, setting the rhythm of my new life.
Enveloped in the cool, sterile embrace of the ultrasound room, I realize: I am not just a woman anymore. I am not just a daughter or an ex-baseball star's best friend's secret love interest, nor a victim of a fake kidnapping video. I am much more—I am a mother-to-be!
Life is tossing curveballs, adding twist upon twist like an elaborate dance step. Yet at the end of that day, nestled within the realm of Silverton’s quiet clinic, I navigated my way around the intricacies, secretly yet bravely – one leap at a time, one heartbeat at a time. The echoes of my unborn child's heartbeat fill the silence, spelling out a new chapter of my life, a new journey being initiated right inside me.
I need to think, so when I leave the doctor's office, I go to the only place I feel comfortable thinking anymore. The only place that feels safe to me is here. Dad's home doesn't feel safe; there, I feel like a visitor, like a hotel guest overstaying their welcome, like the awkward puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit into the jigsaw of their new, perfect family and life.
With the hum of the car engine as my only companion, I make my way to the cozy, beachside cottage that Zak and I have been renovating. Each screw tightened, each wallpaper chosen, every crack filled is a testament to our undefined bond, a safe haven created amidst the whirl of secrets.
The gloomy gray of the ocean mirrors my turmoil as I park by the sandy beach. Memories of shared laughter and stolen glances at the cottage tease my heart, adding to the storm brewing inside.
The cottage is still—its quietness reflects the echoes of our conversations about the future, reverberating through the wooden stairwell, the prepped kitchen, the boarded-up fireplace, and the unfinished nursery. Until today, it was all just a job, a project; now, it seems like an unfinished manuscript of a life I am yet to live.
