Beneath the Scars

Today, I had an ultrasound scheduled and he was coming with me. He’d been hesitant when he asked permission; I’d been overjoyed he wanted to be there. He spent a lot of time reading pregnancy books, asking me questions, and when I was lying down, talking to my tummy. Last week, I’d woken up to find him beside me murmuring in a gentle tone, his lips close to my skin.

“You’ll love it here, little one. There’s sand and water and all sort of things to discover.” He chuckled suddenly. “You don’t know what Daddy is talking about do you? You don’t know what sand and water is!” His lips moved on my tummy, as his hand ran gentle circles over it. “I’ll teach you everything. Daddy loves you so much and I can hardly wait to meet you. Mommy, too. She’s taking such good care of you.” He glanced up, meeting my tear-filled eyes.

“Ah, the book says to talk to them so they get used to my voice,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears turning red. I nodded, unable to speak as I took in the look in his eyes. They were soft, peaceful, and filled with love. There was none of the wariness, no distrust in the depth of his gaze. His lips lingered against the swell of my tummy again as his large hand wrapped around mine. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Today he would get to hear the heartbeat of our child, and if possible, we would find out the sex. Zachary was beyond excited for both things to occur. It was also special for me, since, for the first time, I wouldn’t be alone in the waiting room. Zachary would be beside me.

“Megan?”

“Hmm?”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck as he hesitated. “I’m nervous.”

I ran my fingers through his hair—it always seemed to relax him. “About the ultrasound, or going to the hospital?”

“Both.”

“The ultrasound is easy. All you have to do is hold my hand.”

“I can do that.”

I wrapped both of my hands around his, which was resting beside me. “As for the hospital, how about I hold your hand? Would that help?”

His lips curled into a shy smile, his entire face relaxing as he nodded. “Yes, that would help a lot.”

He helped me to stand, then wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. I could feel his love surround me. Every day I accepted it a little more, believed him a little more.

Believed in us a little more.* * *The drive was quiet, Zachary’s tension evident. I reached over and rubbed the back of his neck as I sang along with the radio, ad-libbing the words I didn’t know, making him chuckle. I was pleased when his shoulders loosened a little, giggling when he winked and turned up the radio, putting an end to my impromptu concert.

When we arrived at the hospital, his nerves returned. He kept his head lowered and his hand wrapped around mine so tight I needed to ask him to loosen his grip. “Sorry,” he muttered.

In the elevator, I turned to him, ducking low so he was forced to meet my eyes. “No one is going to judge here, Zachary. This is about our child. Not you.” I drew in a deep breath. “Stop expecting rejection—give people a chance before you assume the worst.”

His eyes widened and his expression changed from wary to open. “You’re right.” He nodded and nestled me to his chest, nuzzling my temple. “Our child.”

The elevator doors opened and we stepped out. I offered him my hand again and with a tight smile he took it. “You can do this,” I encouraged.

His grip tightened. “With you, I think I can do anything.”

We were both smiling when we entered the doctor’s office.

Dr. Booker didn’t even blink when I introduced Zachary to him. He smiled warmly and clapped him on the shoulder, telling him he was pleased to meet him, then ushered us both to the ultrasound room. Zachary relaxed more in the dimly lit room and gazed around, his nerves still showing with the drumming of his fingers on his thigh. Dr. Booker explained the procedure to us both and answered a few questions Zachary had for him as he watched the doctor set things up. He was patient and made sure we both understood everything before starting the ultrasound. I gasped a little as the cool gel hit my tummy, grinning when Zachary mouthed “amateur” at me. Compared to the temperature of the water he stuck his feet into every day, the gel was nothing. His smile was wide when I stuck my tongue out at him, thrilled that he’d relaxed enough to tease me. Bringing him closer to the examination table, I watched his face, transfixed at his expression as the rapid sounds of our child’s heartbeat filled the room—the wonder and awe of the moment erasing everything else. His hand tightened on my arm, his gaze fixated on the screen in front of him. He leaned closer, peering at the image, his eyes wide and filling with tears. He turned his head, his voice filled with emotion. “Our baby.”