44. Robert
forty-four
Robert
The waiting room smelled like antiseptic, a sterile, artificial clean that only made me more on edge. I paced the narrow space outside the exam room, hands clenched into fists at my sides. Every step I took felt heavy, like I was walking through wet cement, dragging the weight of my fears with me.
Delia was in there with the nurse, and they’d told me to wait outside while they checked her in and prepped for the ultrasound. I wanted to be in there, needed to be in there, but they’d given me no choice.
I felt like I was suffocating.
The exam room door opened, and a nurse stepped out, looking at me with calm professionalism. I immediately stopped pacing, my eyes locking on her.
“She’s asking for you, Mr. Hastings. You can come in now,” the nurse said gently.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and nodded, following her to the room.
When I stepped inside, the first thing I saw was Delia lying on the exam table, her head turned to look at me. She looked small, fragile, and so incredibly brave at the same time. A hospital gown hung loosely around her, and her hands rested over her stomach protectively.
“Hey,” she said softly, her voice thin but steady.
I forced my feet to move, closing the distance between us and taking her hand in mine. Her skin felt clammy, and I rubbed my thumb over her knuckles, trying to ground both of us. “Hey,” I murmured back, my voice rough. “How are you holding up?”
She gave me a weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m okay. They’re about to do the ultrasound.”
I looked up at the nurse, who stood beside the machine, adjusting the settings. Her face was calm. Too calm. I wanted to shake her, to scream, ‘Don’t you get it? Don’t you see?’, but her calm was so pervasive that I followed suit.
“Is everything…is she okay?” I asked, my voice betraying the anxiety I was trying so hard to keep in check.
The nurse offered me a reassuring smile. “We’re going to take a look now. Let’s focus on the ultrasound, and I’ll explain as we go.”
I nodded stiffly, unable to say more. My throat felt like sandpaper as I gripped Delia’s hand tighter. She didn’t complain. If anything, she squeezed back.
“Okay, Delia,” the nurse said softly, spreading the cold gel onto her stomach. Delia flinched slightly, and I hated that I couldn’t do anything to shield her from even this small discomfort. “This might feel a little cool, but it’ll help us get a clear picture.”
I stood there, frozen, as the nurse moved the wand over her stomach. The machine hummed softly, the screen flickering to life, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My entire world narrowed to the sound of that machine, the quiet clicks, and the rhythmic hum of the monitor.
“Come on,” I whispered under my breath, so low I didn’t think anyone could hear me. “Come on, come on…”
The seconds felt like hours. I stared at the screen, trying to make sense of the shadows and shapes, but it was all a blur of gray. Delia didn’t say anything, but when I glanced at her, I could see her staring at the screen with the same hunger for answers that I had.
And then, the nurse’s expression softened, and she tilted the monitor slightly so we could see better. “There they are,” she said gently, pointing to two distinct shapes on the screen.
They... Two shapes?
I blinked, not sure I’d heard her right. “What did you say?”
“They’re just fine,” the nurse said, her voice calm and steady. “See here? And here?” She pointed again, tracing the faint flickers on the screen. “Those are your babies. Do you hear their heartbeats?”
“Bab..ies?” Delia whispered, emphasizing the plurality, her voice barely audible.
My head snapped down to look at her, my heart thundering in my chest. She stared at the screen, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. She sat up, folding her gown slightly over the gel. “Did you just say…babies?”
The nurse nodded, smiling now, slight confusion on her face. “Did you not know? You’re having twins.”
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I just stared at the screen, the reality of what she’d said crashing into me like a tidal wave.
Twins.
I felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me, but at the same time, I couldn’t look away from the screen. Two shapes. Two tiny heartbeats. Two. Alive. Real.
“They’re okay?” Delia asked suddenly, her voice tight with emotion. “So it wasn’t a miscarriage? The blood, there was more than I thought there was. And I’d just been pushed to the ground. I thought…” She was winding in and out of thought, convincing herself there was a problem when we could see clearly on the screen that there wasn’t. I squeezed her hand.
The nurse nodded again, her voice soothing. “It was just spotting, nothing to be alarmed about. Very normal in twin pregnancies, and especially in times of stress. But both heartbeats are strong, and everything looks good.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, my chest heaving as relief flooded through me. My knees felt weak, and I had to steady myself against the edge of the bed.
“They’re okay,” I said softly, more to myself than anyone else. I turned to Delia, my hand still gripping hers tightly. “They’re okay, Delia.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “They’re okay.”
We stared at each other for a moment, the weight of everything settling between us. The fear, the relief, the overwhelming shock of what we’d just learned—it was all there, written in her teary eyes and in the way my own chest ached.
The nurse cut through the moment to ask, “Do you want to know the sexes?”
Delia and I looked at each other, and I gave a tiny shrug of one shoulder. She shrugged back and then looked at the nurse. “Lay it on us.”
“Baby boy here, and here…if we can just get baby number two to move their legs…oh, there we go. You’re lucky. One of each.”
“Twins,” Delia whispered.
“Twins,” I repeated, shaking my head slightly in disbelief. “A boy and a girl.”
A small, watery smile tugged at the corners of Delia’s lips, lips I’d cursed and kissed and everything in-between. She let out a cackle of disbelief. “A boy and a girl! I hope you’re ready for this.”
I huffed out a quiet laugh, running a hand through her hair, twisting the ends. “I hope we’re ready for this.”
Her smile widened just a little, and she reached for my hand, saying, “We’ve got this. All five of us.”
She said five. She remembered my daughter. I squeezed her hand gently.
“All five of us.”