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The doctor just stares at me over her wired bifocals.
“You did have the NIPT done, right?” I ask.
Stassi explains to her gently, “He’s a doctor. So—”
“Ah,” Dr. Freeman says, smiling at her as she squeezes the jelly onto her abdomen. Then she glares at me. “We did the testing. All was normal.”
“But what testing? Sequential? Because the other is far more accur—”
“Alec,” Stassi says, setting her head back. “Can you please stop asking questions up so we can see our baby?”
Our baby.
The words stop me in my tracks.
I don’t want our first meeting with our kid to be marred by us arguing. That’s probably what happened the first time my parents met me. I zip my lips and sit back in my chair.
Dr. Freeman switches on the machine and moves the paddle over Stassi’s belly. At first, there’s nothing, but then a fast, rhythmic, swishing sound fills the room—a sound I haven’t heard since my OB rotation.
Our baby’s heartbeat.
I watch as it creates waves on the screen. Strong, Steady. I close my eyes, listening, committing this sound to memory forever.
That’s my kid. Our kid. We created that.
“And there it is,” Dr. Freeman announces.
I open my eyes. From my corner of the room, it’s nothing. Just a little blip. A dot. A bulge on the side of an empty circle. Gray and black and white shadows and shapes.
Stassi lets out a little gasp.
Without realizing it, I’m up from my chair, holding my breath and thinking, Damn. When I started this year, this was definitely not something I’d expected I’d be doing.
Stassi looks nervous, flushed, and beautiful, with her hands fisted at her sides as she watches the screen. I so badly want to hold one of hers in mine, to share this moment with her, but I think better of it.
The doctor checks the screen as she moves the paddle around.
It seems like she goes on forever.
“Is there something wrong?” I ask.
“No, no,” the doctor says, checking the monitor. “All is good. See? There we go.”
I lean forward. Stassi squints. “What is that?”
“That’s the head.”
I stare at an outline of a smooth, round shape.
Our son.
Or daughter.
“And over here,” she points closer. “The baby’s abdomen. And there’s a leg.”
I can’t count how many times I’ve seen this before in a clinical setting, but nothing can prepare you for seeing it when it’s your own.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, standing up and walking closer to it. I point out something. “What is that?”
“A little foot.”
As I’m standing there, a hand reaches out, taking mine.
Shocked, I look down to find that it’s Stassi’s. Her eyes are filled with tears, focused on the screen.
“How big is it?” she asks.
“You’re measuring a little over eleven weeks along. So … about the size of a plum,” Freeman says, making a shape with her thumb and forefinger.
I’m impressed. “That big already?”
Stassi sits up slightly, bringing her other hand to her mouth, her eyes still fastened to the screen. A single tear slips down her cheek and she makes a soundless “wow” with her mouth.
“That’s our baby,” she says.
Our baby. Stassi’s, and mine. I’ve never loved the sound of anything more in my life. It’s music to my ears. Food for my soul. All the cliches and then some.
“Well, everything looks great,” the doctor says, snapping off her gloves and writing something in Stassi’s file. Next, she grabs a warm towels and starts to wipe up the gel on Stassi’s belly. “Congratulations.” The doctor looks at me. “Well, you better get Mom taken care of. Go out and buy her some lunch. I’ll want to see you next at twenty weeks. All right?”
We both nod.
“So … there are no problems?” Stassi asks.
The doctor smiles.
“No, my love. Everything looks great. You have a very normal, strong baby in there,” she says as Stassi sits up, looking a little stunned, her hands on her belly. “You’ll want to invest in some maternity clothes if you haven’t already. You’ll probably begin to show soon.”
“Yes, of course,” she finally says, her voice a little hollow. “Thank you.”
The doctor gives us a number of brochures on various baby and parenting classes held at the local community center and then she leaves us. For a silent moment, we don’t look at each other. We just sit there, quiet, lost in our own worlds.
“I’m going to be a whale.” Stassi breaks the silence with a comment that makes me cackle. Maybe it’s not funny, but after the gamut of emotions I’ve just sprinted through, I can’t help but laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“If you’re going to be a whale, then you’re going to be the most beautiful whale Sapphire Shores has ever seen.”
I’ve never known Stassi to give a flying fuck about her appearance. She’s the farthest thing from vain. I imagine the real issue here is the fact that everything’s happening so fast and she can’t do a damn thing to control it.
