It’s a short taxi ride over to the obstetrician’s office. After I fill out the questionnaire for today, we just sit in the waiting room, looking at everyone in their various stages of pregnancy .
There are some you really can’t tell, and some others with that nervous look that I think means they’re trying fertility treatments. Some ladies look so swollen and uncomfortable I think they might pop at any second .
Bea nudges me with her elbow, gesturing toward the lady in the corner who’s got her feet up on the chair next to her, flipping through an old People magazine. She sighs uncomfortably every few seconds, rubbing her swollen ankles against the wool upholstery .
“That’ll be you in about seven months,” Bea whispers knowingly .
I want to object, but I think she’s right. That’s my future, right there .
I guess the nurse assumes that Bea and I are a couple, because nobody even seems to mind that she’s coming with me. Nobody asks any questions at all. They just show us into one of the tiny rooms, offering me a cotton gown and instructions on which clothes I’m supposed to take off, before I hop up on the table .
Bea takes the plastic model of a uterus with a tiny, upside down fetus in it and pokes at the various fake tissues .
“Crazy,” she mutters under her breath as I disrobe, balancing on my toes on the cold linoleum floor before I hop up on the paper-covered table .
When she sits back down in the guest chair, she has a thoughtful look on her face .
“What?” I ask her .
“I don’t know,” she shrugs. She taps the plastic baby with her fingernail. “You think it already looks like this ?”
“Jeez, does it?” I wonder aloud, glancing down at my belly. I don’t even really look all that different yet, though my boobs ache and I always feel like I just ate too much. But I haven’t changed enough to be storing something like that, something about the size of a troll doll, have I ?
“This is so freaky,” Bea observes, and I have to agree .
There’s a brief knock on the door and it opens. Dr. Lopez comes in, smiling broadly. Her high heels click against the linoleum floor .
“Ava Harrison?” she asks, glancing at the clipboard with my medical records .
“That’s me,” I confirm .
“Great, that’s great,” she coos. She pulls over a rolling chair and sits down. “Just lie back, I’m going to do a quick exam and then we can ultrasound you, if that’s all right? Just to make sure everything is progressing .”
“Oh! Ultrasound!” Bea exclaims, clapping her fingertips together. “This is exciting !”
“Oh, you guys are great couple,” Dr. Lopez sighs, smiling as she squirts lube on her gloved fingers. She pushes my knees apart gently and jams her fingers in me, pushing down on my belly while she stares at the far corner of the ceiling, concentrating. I feel like I should let her know that Bea and I are not together, but now doesn’t seem to be the right time .
“Okay! Everything feels good on the internal… now I’m just going to expose your belly so I can put the transponder gel on, all right ?”
I say okay as she pulls over a rolling cart and a tube of more cold lube that gives me goosebumps as soon as she squirts it on my skin. She takes the triangular transponder and mashes it against me, aiming it this way and that, sliding it back and forth while she makes more thoughtful noises. The black and white screen flickers with strange undulating shapes and whooshing noises fill the room .
“Hmm.”
I hold my breath. What did that sound mean? I squint at the TV screen, trying to see what she sees. Is it okay? Is it deformed? Am I having kittens ?
“Is everything all right, Dr. Lopez?” I finally ask, daring to open my mouth .
She hesitates for another excruciating second before tapping on the keyboard and then standing up, grinning and satisfied .
“Oh, yes, totally!” she exclaims. She holds out a hand to me that I take so she can pull me back toward sitting. With her dark pink fingernail, she taps the screen .
“Look at that. Perfectly healthy! And did you hear those heartbeats? Couldn’t ask for anything better .”
“Well that’s a relief!” I sigh. “Yeah, I guess I did hear the, um, heartbeats ?”
“Heartbeats?” Bea repeats .
Dr. Lopez nods, her curly hair bouncing in front of her forehead. She looks at us one by one. “Yes, perfectly healthy !”