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I throw Drew a look. That’s the first time he’s put it like that. Sure, it was always implied. But we have been using the word “promise” to describe it. Not “engaged to be engaged”.
“Oh, noncommittal, hm?” The technician raises her eyebrow.
“No, nothing like that,” Drew says. “Just prudent, I guess.”
I squeeze his hand. He doesn’t have to make excuses to people committed to misunderstanding our situation. “I’m in no rush.”
He smiles gratefully, but the corners of his eyes look sad. As if he doesn’t trust my confidence in him. Or something else I can’t quite pin down.
The technician shrugs. “Well, at least he has good taste.”
Before Drew can qualify it, say he had nothing to do with it, I say, “I think so too.”
Drew relaxes beside me.
“Now, let’s take a look at your bundle of joy, huh?”
The technician starts to spread the gel across my stomach with her wand, watching her screen as she does so. I wriggle my toes nervously, alternately observing her and then checking in with Drew for support.
The sound of the heartbeat cuts through the silence, a beautiful pounding.
“There’s that heartbeat. Strong.”
“That’s what the doctor said last time,” Drew murmurs.
He remembers everything when it comes to the baby. Not going to be one of those dads that forgets how old his child is (I only excuse my dad when he forgets because he had five of us). Drew might be even more on top of it than I am. He’s already making sure there’s a spot for our baby at his office daycare so I can eventually go back to counseling.
“Take a look.”
The technician turns the screen and shows us the grainy black and white image. There’s a baby in there alright. And it actuallylookslike one.
“There’s the nose, mouth…And you can see right there a little hand. All fisted up. See?”
Drew and I both stare at the screen with rapt attention.
“Now, that baby looks very cozy,” she coos.
“Aw, man.” Drew pinches his nose bridge. “Not again.”
The technician grabs a box of tissues and hands them to Drew. “Just to be safe.”
“Thanks.”
I pull his hand to my mouth and kiss his knuckles. If there’s one thing I love more than seeing my baby on the monitor, it’s seeing Drew see our baby.
“Now, did you want to know the gender?”
“What? I thought that was a twenty-week thing,” Drew says urgently. “Not a–not a sixteen-week thing.”
The technician turns the screen and shrugs. “We’ve got better tech now. And I can already tell what it is.”
“Does that mean it’s a boy?” I ask.
“I’m not saying unless you want to know,” she replies with a sneaky smile.
I sigh and rest my head back on the table, looking up at the ceiling. We haven’t talked about this yet. Didn’t really anticipate that we’d be offered the gender already.
“What do you think, D?” Drew strokes the back of my hand with his thumb.
