“Will you still be coming into the office today?” Ni
x asks.
Closing my eyes and clinging to that sliver of anger toward Nate, I nod.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Liz asks.
I shake my head. “No. I think I need to do this by myself.”
She frowns but doesn’t argue.
“I’ll be there. You won’t be alone,” Nix says, but I think the assurance is more for Liz than for me.
I’m vomiting in the trash can when Nix enters the exam room.
When I finish and look up, she’s tucking my chart under her arm and shaking her head. “I guess I don’t need to ask how you’re feeling.”
“I’m dying.” I run water in the sink and scoop handfuls into my mouth until the bitter chalk taste of bile leaves my mouth. I’ve vomited four times since I woke up this morning. Zero morning sickness yesterday, and today, I feel like the toilet is my new best friend. “This baby obviously wants me dead.”
“Well, there is a baby. Your dipstick read positive, confirming your blood test results. But I don’t think the baby wants you to die.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, but my hand settles over my stomach. Pregnant. How many times do I have to hear that news before it starts sounding real to me?
“We’ll do an ultrasound today and figure out exactly how far along you are.”
“I know when I conceived,” I whisper.
Her lips part. “Oh.”
“I remembered.”
She nods. “Okay, well, we’ll confirm, then. And if we’re lucky, we might hear the baby’s heartbeat.”
“We don’t need to do that. I’d rather not, actually.” I’ve imagined this moment—the first time I’d get to hear the steady heartbeat of my child—but I never imagined I’d be facing it alone. It’s just too much for me today. “I shouldn’t have come. This was a bad idea.”
When I look up, Nix is studying me. “You’re not thinking what I think you are, are you, Hanna? Because I know your mother won’t approve of the timing, but I’m not the right doctor if you’re looking to terminate this pregnancy.”
“What? No! Of course not. I—” Her words have me clutching my stomach as if they were a threat.
Her shoulders relax. “Good to know. Now lie back so we can measure this little bean in your belly and see when he or she started growing.”
I lower myself onto the table, taking the ever-awkward, time-honored position of my feet in the stirrups as she prepares the wand for a transvaginal ultrasound. I turn off my mind to anything other than Nix’s commands. Don’t think.
“Relax,” she orders, pressing my thighs apart.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Lying on a table and getting my first ultrasound has to be the loneliest place in the world. I know Liz could have been here, would love to be here, but having her by my side would have been even more painful, the Band-Aid that chafes the open wound.
“Are you ready?” Nix asks.
I open my eyes and mouth, “No,” but she’s not looking at me. She hits a few keys on the keyboard, and a fuzzy black-and-white image pops onto the screen to my left.
At first, all I see is a black void with occasional white patches. But then she coos, and I see something that looks very much like a little lima bean.
“See that?” She points to a flashing green light on the screen. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat. Let’s see if we can get a listen.” She taps the keyboard again, and then suddenly the thumping of a fast-beating heart comes over the room’s speakers.
The sound spins my emotions on their head and the moment transforms from surreal to wonderfully and painfully real. It’s not just a sound. It’s a part of me.
Nix gives me a sad smile before turning her attention back to her computer screen. “Let’s take some measurements to see how far along you are.” The image on the screen swishes from right to left as she maneuvers the wand and uses the mouse at the computer to measure this little bean inside me. “Oh…oooh.”