“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“What?” He whispered back, eyebrows lifted. “You didn’t think I’d let you do this alone? You should know me better by now.”
He was right. I should have known. He’d been nothing but reliable and giving since the night we met. Far too reliable. Impossibly giving.
“Come on.” He took my hand. “Let’s do this.”
The technician smiled as we entered the room. “I’m Suzanne. I’ll be performing your scan today. Is your bladder full?”
“Uncomfortably so.”
Ignoring my hinted plea, she instructed me to hop up on the exam table and roll down my waistband. “I’ll need access to your lower pelvis.” Turning to Caleb, she added, “Dad, there’s another stool you can wheel over if you’d like to sit.”
“Oh, Caleb’s not the baby’s father.” The words came out sharper than I intended, stress turning me into someone I didn’t like.
“I’m the moral support.” His voice was easy. Completely unbothered.
“My apologies, I shouldn’t have assumed.” Suzanne recovered with the grace of a professional. “You can sit or stand, whatever’s comfortable. We’ll get started.”
Caleb moved to the head of the table and leaned into my space, resting his arm beside my exposed stomach.
Modesty had no place in a medical setting, but I felt vulnerable with my pants slung low and shirt pushed up under my chest. It reminded me too much of being naked in a bathtub with nothing but bubbles between us.
Except now there was a medical professional watching, and I was lying on a table with detachable stirrups.
I forced my focus onto Suzanne as she positioned the ultrasound machine.
“This will be a little chilly,” she warned.
The ice-cold gel hit my bloated abdomen, and I flinched. But I barely registered the slide of the wand through it, because my mind was too busy racing.
Was I terrible for not contacting Sean sooner? Could I yell at Chantel for abandoning me? Was Caleb’s hand moving closer to mine, or was I imagining it?
Then Suzanne flicked a switch and pressed the wand firmly against my pelvis.
Everything else disappeared.
The screen transformed from a black void to a black void with a fuzzy blob in the center. She turned a few dials, and the room filled with something that sounded like radio static.
She twisted the wand, pressed a little harder. And suddenly, the static became a fast, rhythmic whooshing. Like sonar. Or a tiny heartbeat racing toward the surface.
“And that,” Suzanne said, holding the wand steady, “is your baby.”
My hand flew to the edge of the table. Caleb’s arm was there, and I grabbed on like my life depended on it. His other hand covered mine, gentled my death grip, and laced our fingers together.
“Is that the heartbeat?” His voice was hushed and reverent.
“Yes.” Suzanne beamed. “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”
“It’s incredible,” he said, and the brightness of his smile could have powered the entire clinic.
No words were enough. Nothing could capture the importance of this moment or that sound. I was riding an emotional wave I hoped would never break.
“See here.” Suzanne directed our attention to the screen. “This is the head. That’s an arm, and there’s a leg.”
The tiny image was hard to decipher. It looked like either a strange sea creature or an alien. The head was clear, but the rest was anyone’s guess.
“Is that a tail?” I asked, not sure whether to laugh or cry.