“Rest.” Lucas pulls his hand from mine and gathers up the pieces of the broken chair, putting them in the corner near the bathroom. “Someone is on their way into the room,” he says, able to hear something I can’t. A few seconds later, Dr. Stevenson comes in and does a quick assessment before rolling the portable ultrasound machine to the bedside.
“Is this your first ultrasound?” she asks, moving the wand around my stomach. There’s no TV screen to look at this time, and I crane my neck to try and see what she can on the little screen.
I had an off-the-books one a few months ago, but I don’t want to get Abby in trouble or anything.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, flicking my eyes to Lucas. “We, um, have a strong feeling the baby is a female, though.”
“I see,” Dr. Stevenson says, moving the wand over my stomach. The outline of a baby comes in and out of focus. Lucas is holding my hand again, standing near the head of the bed so he can see the images on the little screen.
“There’s your baby. And it is a girl.” I push up on my elbows so I can see our baby and get all emotional the second I see the outline of her head. “Everything is looking good in here,” Dr. Stevenson tells us not long after taking a few more measurements. “I want to keep monitoring for contractions and the baby’s heartbeat, but know everything is good on that end too. So now we need to get your blood pressure down so you can keep that little girl in there for a couple more weeks at least.”
“Right,” I say and then realize what she said. A couple? It’s not June yet. Elena needs to stay put for more than two weeks. Dr. Stevenson gives me a paper towel to wipe the gel off my stomach and wheels the little stool she’s sitting on over to the desk to add notes to my file.
“I found a typo,” she says, sounding like she’s talking to herself. “This says you’re estimated due date is mid-June.”
“It is,” Lucas and I say at the same time.
Dr. Stevenson snaps her head up. “You’re measuring right around thirty-three weeks.”
I look at Lucas, too stunned to speak. “That’s…that’s not possible,” he says.
“It’s more common than you’d think to get a due date wrong, especially when you don’t get an early ultrasound. I can tell just by you lying there that you’re normally a very athletic person and can appear to carry small. It doesn’t mean your baby is small. It simply means you don’t look as pregnant as the average mother.”
My due date can’t be wrong. There was only one day Lucas was human enough to get me pregnant. What the hell is going on?
The phlebotomist from the lab comes in to take my blood, and Dr. Stevenson moves the ultrasound machine back against the wall and goes to check on her other patients. The blood can be taken out of the IV port, so no pain on my end, yet I still have to have Lucas distract me, which is pretty easy considering how we’re both still having our minds blown to hear that I’m only seven weeks away from being considered full-term.
“What the fuck?” I ask once we’re alone in the room again. “How did I bypass, like, a month?”
Lucas slowly shakes his head. “You were right on track with a June due date when Abby got you the ultrasound.”
“And we know the exact day I got pregnant. I even roughly remember the time. And what position we were in.”
“I do as well.” His eyes fall shut for a few seconds. “I remember the way you sounded when you came.” Opening his eyes, he looks at my stomach. “I could have sworn earlier when I hugged you that you felt bigger.”
“I thought so too. And Maryellen said I’m measuring bigger than she thought. But how?”
“I have no idea,” he says and sits on the bed next to me. “I’m going to assume it’s because you aren’t human, like you’ve been saying all along. The important thing is our baby is healthy. We will make sure you are as well.” He smiles. “And we’ll get to hold her sooner than we thought.”
I wish this brought me the same comfort it’s bringing Lucas. All it does is make me worry something is wrong, and Elena’s sudden growth spurt could leave something underdeveloped. Letting my head fall to the side, I close my eyes and am almost asleep by the time Cassandra comes back.
“Good news,” she says, wheeling in a med cart. “Your urine analysis came back normal.”
“And her bloodwork?” Lucas asks.
“A machine seems to be malfunctioning in the lab,” she replies, and I give Lucas a worried look. There’s nothing wrong with the machine. It can’t process my blood because it’s programed only to work for humans. “We were able to see that she is a little dehydrated, though, so the doc wants you to stay until the IV bag is empty.”