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I hear the click of the door as Dr. Nigel returns, his voice carrying a chewed-over comfort. "When was your last period? Any morning sickness? Any unusual levels of stress lately?"
The questions line up like soldiers, and I muster my responses, each measured and precise, yet I can't help feeling self-conscious as I speak. Dr. Nigel finishes with his questions. His brow furrowed in concentration as he made notes in my chart. Then, he glances up at me with a reassuring smile.
"We're going to try seeing the baby through your belly first," he says with optimism threading his voice. "If you’re far enough along, we won’t need to use the transvaginal wand.” He readies the ultrasound machine, and a moment later, I feel the cold press of jelly on my skin. I can't suppress a shiver.
"It’s cold," I blurt out almost reflexively.
"Sorry," Dr. Nigel apologizes with a quick, almost sheepish smile. "I forgot to mention that the gel would be cold."
Damien's protective instincts flash in his eyes, and his hand tightens around mine. "Well, don’t forget anything else that makes her uncomfortable," he growls with a hint of warning in his tone. "Or I’ll make youpainfullyuncomfortable."
"Damien!" I hiss, my whisper sharp as a whip-crack in the quiet room. ”Stop it!”
His concern is endearing, but his overprotectiveness can be a touch too fierce. I squeeze his hand as a silent plea for calm. After all, we're here for reassurance, not confrontation. The cold gel spreads over my skin as Dr. Nigel starts moving the ultrasound device across my belly. The small discomfort fades to the background as my eyes fixate on the screen, where a blurry image flickers in and out of clarity.
Dr. Nigel's hand is steady, his movements precise as he searches for the life inside me. I hold my breath as a hopeful tension tightens in my chest with each pass. The room is silent except for the murmur of the machine and the quiet shuffle as Damien shifts closer. Then the doctor pauses, adjusts the device slightly, and there it is. That tiny yet profound flicker on the screen.
"There's your baby," Dr. Nigel announces with a smile in his voice that echoes the joy swelling in my heart.
A wave of awe washes over me, rendering me breathless as I stare at the screen. Our baby, a tiny beacon flickering in the safe harbor of my womb. Tears prick my eyes as joy and wonder converge within my chest. My hand tightens around Damien's, our interlocked fingers a symbol of unity as we witness the miracle together.
I break into a smile, unstoppable and bright, reflecting the happiness blooming inside me. With each beat of that minute heart on the screen, the fears and scars of my past dissolve further into insignificance, overshadowed by the overwhelming love and promise to embrace us at this moment.
"Hello, little one," I whisper, my voice a tender caress for the life we've created.
Damien leans forward with his face etched with fierce determination. "Dr. Nigel," he begins, his voice firm and insistent. "Can you run through the health indicators you're seeing? Is everything developing normally?"
The doctor meets his gaze, nodding. "Absolutely. Let's look here," he says, pointing to the ultrasound screen. "The baby's heart rate is strong, and the growth measurements align with the expected range for this stage. Everything appears to be progressing just as it should."
"What about Isabella's health?" Damien inquires, his eyes never leaving Dr. Nigel’s. "Are there signs of pre-eclampsia, gestational diabetes, anything I need to be prepared to handle?"
Dr. Nigel adjusts the screen slightly and replies. "No, Mrs. Blackhart’s blood pressure is in the normal range. We'll continue to monitor, of course, but for now, you both should just focus on maintaining a healthy lifestyle."
Damien's expression softens, but the concern doesn't entirely vacate his eyes. "And the activity restrictions, can we go over those? I want to make sure we're not doing anything to risk any complications."
"Of course," agrees Dr. Nigel patiently. "Let's ensure you're clear on everything. Mrs. Blackhart should avoid heavy lifting, extreme sports, and anything overly strenuous. Light exercise, like walking and pregnancy-appropriate yoga, can actually be beneficial."
Satisfied for the moment, Damien gives my hand another reassuring squeeze, and the intensity in his eyes is replaced with a hint of gratitude. "Thank you, Dr. Nigel," he says. "It means everything to have your expertise guiding us through this."
Damien is finished with his questions, and his focus is now locked onto the flickering form on the screen. "That's our baby," he whispers, the softness of his voice carrying the weight of amazement and love. There's raw emotion in his eyes, a mirror of my own heart as it overflows with affection for that tiny, pulsing image.
Dr. Nigel's warm voice comes as a gentle interruption. "You're approximately five months along. Everything's looking exactly as we'd hope at this stage." He looks between us, the unspoken question hanging in the air. "Would you like to see if we can determine the sex of the baby? Are you interested in knowing?"
Our eyes meet, Damien's gaze reflecting the same desire and decision that stirs within me. We nod at each other, the decision made without words.
"No, Dr. Nigel," I say, my voice firm. "We want to be surprised."
He understands, giving a curt nod as he prints out the image of our child. "Take this, then," he says with a smile, handing us the picture. "A little keepsake of today's visit."
Dr. Nigel offers a last encouraging nod, and his professional demeanor mingles with genuine warmth. "I'll see you at your next appointment, Mrs. Blackhart. Keep taking care of yourself and the little one."
His voice trails off as he gestures to the ultrasound image still glowing from the screen. With a gentle smile, he backs away, giving Damien and me a moment alone. The door clicks shut behind him, and the reality of the room closes in. Just the two of us and the presence of a future we can barely begin to comprehend. I sit up slowly, the paper gown crinkling with my movements and the faint sound somehow grounding.
I swing my legs over the examination bed with unhurried movements. I need to get dressed and step back into the flow of everyday life, but for just a few heartbeats more, I let myself revel in the rush of emotions and the shared look with Damien that says everything about our journey ahead.
We drive away from the hospital in a comfortable silence that’s filled with unspoken dreams and plans for our future. I notice Damien taking turns I don’t recognize, and my forehead creases with confusion. Glancing at him, I'm about to ask where we're heading when he breaks the silence.
"Mom called this morning and asked us to come by after your appointment," he says casually as he navigates through the less familiar streets. Pulling into the driveway of his mother's house, my stomach knots with apprehension.
