Giggling, I squeeze his hand.
“We won’t hurt mama either,” Dr. Stahl reassures. “Okay, here we go.”
She touches the inside of each thigh, and I drop my legs open. Gently, she inserts the wand, and the screen in front of us comes to life. Lincoln and I watch the monitor as she shifts the wand from side to side.
Tilting my head, I try to see what she’s looking at, but the images on the screen are blurry.
“Are you sure there’s a baby in there, doc?” Lincoln asks.
Dr. Stahl grins and moves the wand around a few more times. “See this?”
There’s a small white blob on the screen, and when Dr. Stahl moves the wand a little to the left, that white blob starts to move.
Lincoln sucks in a breath. “Is that…”
“That is your baby’s heartbeat. Specifically, those are the valves opening and closing.”
“That’s our baby,” I breathe, watching the screen in awe.
Our baby.
A perfect little piece of me and Lincoln.
We created this.
I look up at Lincoln, unable to speak. His eyes are full of tears. Keeping his eyes on the screen, he leans down and touches his lips to my forehead.
“I love you so much,” he whispers.
Squeezing his hand, I close my eyes. He’s taking care of me, not just the baby. If those five words in this moment—along with all of the other things he’s done—don’t prove that to me, I don’t know what will. He’s looking out for both me and the baby. When he says he loves me, he means it. And the lady from the waiting room was right; I am lucky.
Opening my eyes, I tug Lincoln’s hand until he looks down at me. “Lincoln, I l—”
“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” Dr. Stahl asks, unintentionally cutting me off.
“Yes,” Lincoln says. “We’d love to.”
Dr. Stahl gently pulls the wand out and lowers the blanket, covering the bottom half of my body. She then pulls the top of the blanket down, exposing my belly, and grabs a transducer from the machine.
“This might be a little cold,” she says, squirting a blue-tinged gel onto my stomach.
“Just a little,” I say, watching her lower the small wand to my skin. She slides it across my belly.
At first nothing happens, and I start to get worried. I can tell Lincoln feels the same way, because he moves a little closer and tightens his grip on my hand. And then the most miraculous thing happens: a tiny whooshing noise fills the air.
“There it is. That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
“It’s so fast,” Lincoln says, laughing.
“It’s perfectly normal.”
“Can we listen to it for just a little bit longer?” I ask, looking up at the doctor.
She smiles down at me. “Of course. This is such an exciting time for a couple. There’s nothing quite like hearing your baby’s heart beat for the first time.”
Lincoln props an elbow up on the back of the exam table and angles his hand so he can brush his fingers lightly across my forehead. When I look up, a tear rolls down his cheek, and I brush it away.
He looks down and smiles. “We’re having a baby.”