“Why?” I say, walking to the table and sitting down, looking down to make sure that everything is covered. “You can turn around.”
He turns back to face me and steps to the side in the corner, making sure he doesn’t touch anything. “Relax,” I say. “Also you need to stay over here.” I point at the back of my head. “You stay there and well.” I shake my head, and he laughs, walking toward the back of me.
He looks at the pictures on the wall. “What is going to happen?” he asks, taking off his hat and scratching his head.
“Well, last time she came in and checked my stomach to see if my uterus was measuring fine,” I share, and his face turns white.
“Does it hurt?” He puts his hand to his stomach. “Will you or the baby feel pain?” I’m about to answer him when the door opens, and the doctor steps in.
“Hello, hello.” She smiles at me and then looks over and sees Michael, her eyes going big.
“This is the dad,” I say, pointing at him with my thumb. Her eyes go big. “We ran into each other.”
She smiles, not sure what to say. It was a different story three months ago when she sat me down to tell me I was pregnant. I did not handle that well, at all. I broke down and told her all about the one-night stand. I bet she didn’t think that would come out of my mouth, she then sent me for some blood work and an STI test. Both came back negative. She walks to the rolling stool at the desk and opens my chart. “How are you feeling?” she asks as she reads the notes from the last time.
“Good, I have more energy some days, and other days, I can sleep all day.”
“That’s normal,” she says. “You are in your second trimester, so your energy will start to pick up.”
She closes the file and looks at me. “Let’s get you measured,” she says, and I lean back in the chair as she presses the button for my back to go lower. She comes to me and lifts up the gown, my stomach on full display. She takes a white tape measure out.
“What is she doing?” Michael leans and tries to whisper in my ear, but the doctor can hear him since he’s close to her head.
“I’m measuring her belly to make sure that the uterus is at the right size.” She places one hand on the bottom of my stomach and moves up, pressing down.
“Whoa,” Michael says to her. “That’s got to hurt.” He looks at me and then at the doctor, who just smiles at him.
“The baby is very well protected in there,” she assures him, looking down and walking over to the files to write down the number.
“Is it okay?” Michael asks her, putting his hands on his hips, and I hold out my hand to him.
“She usually does all the tests, and then she tells me at the end.” I look at him, and he puts his hand in mine. “Now it’s the fun part,” I say.
The doctor wheels over to me, grabbing the ultrasound machine and bringing it close to her. She grabs the white bottle on the side and squeezes the blue liquid on my stomach. “Are you ready?” She looks over at Michael, who is watching her like a fucking hawk. His eyes follow her every movement. She presses the button on the machine, dimming the lights in the office as she takes the wand and moves the gel around my stomach.
The sound of thumping fills the room. “That,” the doctor says, “is your baby’s heartbeat.”
I look at Michael as he stands there with his mouth hanging wide. “It sounds like horses.” He takes his phone out. “Can I take a video of the sound?” He points his phone to the machine as he takes a video.
“You sure can,” the doctor confirms and then looks at me and smiles. “And here we are,” she says as Michael looks at me, turning the machine around. “That is your baby,” she says with joy in her voice.
Michael leans over a bit to look at the screen. “Oh my God,” he whispers as the baby flips around. “Do you feel that?”
“I feel little flutters,” I answer him as I look at the screen. His arm goes around my head as he leans more in.
“Look”—he points at the screen—“two hands and two feet.” The tears run down my face as he looks at the screen in awe.
The doctor presses things on the machine, and we see dots as she takes measurements. “I’m just making sure everything is growing properly.” She tells us. “Do you want pictures?”
“I want one,” Michael says to her and grabs his phone. She prints out a row of pictures, putting the wand back in its place. She grabs a towel and wipes my stomach, handing Michael the pictures.