24. Nothing
twenty-four
Nothing
Leah
M y leg bobs up and down nervously as we wait in the freezing cold waiting room of the doctor’s office.
Dylan puts down the magazine he’s been thumbing through and leans toward me. “What’s wrong?” He asks.
“Nothing. What makes you think something is wrong?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you can’t stop fidgeting. And if that’s not enough.” He holds up my hand where I’ve bitten all my nails down to the quick. “So, why don’t you tell me what’s up?”
I lean closer to him and mutter, “What if our baby has horns or something?”
“What? Why would our baby have horns?”
“Dylan, it’s coming out of me—there’s bound to be something strange about it.”
“Leah,” he begins. “Horns? Really? ”
Looking down at the ground, I reply, “Okay, maybe not horns. But the sentiment remains the same. What if something is wrong?”
“Why do you think something is wrong with the baby?”
“I’m not exactly the healthiest person in the world. I imagine my uterus is a hostile environment to try to cultivate anything living.”
He puts his arm around my shoulder. “I’m sure everything is fine. And we’ll know for sure in a few minutes.”
Thankfully, the nurse comes and gets me pretty quickly and leads me back to an exam room. She has me go ahead and change into a gown.
As we wait for the doctor, I look over at Dylan who looks as cool as a cucumber. Over the past couple weeks, he and I have spent a ton of time together. And I have to admit that seeing him each night is the highlight of my day.
I find myself waging a war with myself because part of me wants to jump into a relationship with him. Afterall, we’re having a baby together.
And he’s amazing to me. Better than any other guy I’ve ever been with—or really, anybody in my life in general. I think he’d treat me right. Plus, it would be nice to have some connection as more than just friends.
But I wonder if me wanting more is just from my crazy pregnant hormones.
I don’t know that I should be making any major life decisions right now. The baby is wreaking way too much havoc on me. Between the morning sickness, the extreme exhaustion, and my complete lack of sex drive, I’m all out of sorts .
The doctor interrupts my train of thought when he comes walking in.
“Hi, Leah. How are we doing today?”
“Good,” I lie.
“First appointment, I see,” he says while looking over my chart.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well, I’m Dr. Hornsby.”
Hornsby? As in…horns?
I look over at Dylan who is doing his best to keep from laughing because he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
He starts asking me what I assume are routine questions. I answer, anxious to keep this train moving right along. Next, he opens one of the cabinets and hands me something that looks like a gift bag.
“We call this our baby bag. It has all sorts of helpful information and resources. It should answer all the questions you have. There’s also some coupons and samples,” he tells me.
I don’t even bother to look inside before I hand it off to Dylan.
The doctor stands up and says, “Alright, let’s take a look to figure out what your due date will be.”
I lie back on the table while he says, “Since it’s probably still early, we will have to use the internal doppler.”
My eyes get big as I watch him squirt lube onto what looks like a giant sex toy.
Dylan gets up to stand on my other side and holds my hand.
The doctor turns away for a moment, and I whisper, “You’d think he’d at least buy me dinner first. ”
We both smile, but mine turns to a grimace when the wand gets shoved somewhere uncomfortable. I try to breathe through the pressure. He moves it around for a second, and my nerves go crazy, wondering if something is wrong.
After what feels like forever, he finally says, “There we go. There’s your little guy or gal.”
I thought that when I saw my baby on the screen, it would set my motherly hormones into motion. I thought endorphins would course through me with love and excitement. But as I stare at the tiny blob, I feel…
Nothing.
I feel nothing.
Does that make me a horrible person?
Probably.
I look up at Dylan who is beaming from ear to ear. He’s staring at the screen as if the image on it is the most dazzling thing he’s ever seen. I wish I was having that reaction right about now.
But nope. Still nothing.
Hell, I wouldn’t have even been able to tell what I was looking at if the doctor hadn’t pointed things out to me.
He does some sort of funky doctor math and figures out my due date. I knew when I got knocked up, so the due date wasn’t really a surprise. I’m about eight weeks right now.
After he prints off some photos for us, he tells me I can get dressed and leaves the room. As I put my clothes back on, Dylan looks at the photos. “Leah, this is our baby.”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to muster up as much excitement as I can.
Once I’m dressed, we walk out to schedule my next appointment in a month and then head back to the house .
In the truck, I look over all the stuff in the bag. It’s a lot of information to take in all at once. The thing that stands out to me is a piece of paper that reads: Food and Drink to Avoid While Pregnant.
Oh, that sounds like a real page turner.
Dylan looks over and asks if I’m okay. I reply with, “Yeah, I’m alright. Just tired.”
And guilt-ridden. I feel like the worst mother-to-be in the entire world. I should really feel more of a connection to this baby than I do.
What is wrong with me?
When we get back to the house, Dylan heads into the kitchen to try to find something to make for lunch. Meanwhile, I look over at the banned foods list.
Dylan asks, “What are you looking at?”
“A list of all the things I shouldn’t consume.”
“Ouch.”
“No lunch meat. Minimal caffeine. No alcohol. It’s like they don’t want me to have any fun.”
“Well, two out of three of those things shouldn’t be a shock to you,” he says.
I basically ignore what he said. “Are you kidding me? I can’t have sushi!”
He looks up at me while cutting up some fruit. “Do you like sushi?”
“Never tried it.”
“So, why are you—”
I cut him off, “What if I finally wanted to try it?”
“Have you been thinking about trying it? ”
“Maybe!” I cry in a shrill voice. As I keep going, my voice cracks, and I feel myself about to cry. “It’s just not fair that now, if I wanted to try sushi, I can’t. Isn’t that the saddest thing you’ve ever heard?”
He stops what he’s doing and comes toward me. Grabbing my hands, he leads me to the couch. “Okay, I’m starting to think this isn’t just about the sushi. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“I don’t like our baby!” I blurt.
“Huh?”
“That’s not what I mean. Well, it’s kind of what I mean. I just don’t…I don’t know. Do you know what I mean?”
The poor guy looks lost as fuck. “Leah, I need you to slow down a little.”
He encourages me to take a deep breath before continuing.
“Dylan, ever since I got pregnant, I’ve been waiting for something big to make me feel some sort of connection to the baby. Right now, it just feels like I’m sharing my body with some sort of alien who makes me sick all the time. I thought seeing the ultrasound would help me form a bond, but it didn’t. I guess I’m going to be a terrible mom because I clearly hate our baby.” The waterworks are now in full swing.
“Leah, baby, I don’t think you hate our baby.” He wipes off my cheek. “I think that what you’re feeling is normal. Right now, the baby doesn’t even look like a baby. You’ll eventually build a connection. If not now, then, when it’s born.”
“You…don’t…think…I’m…a…terrible…person?” I ask with a sniffle between each word.
He pulls me in and wraps his arms around me. “Not even a little bit.”
“You got so happy when you saw the ultrasound. Clearly, you have more of a bond with this baby than I do.”
He sinks to his knees on the floor and looks up at me. “Do you want to know why I was so excited?”
“Because you’re a better person than I am?”
He smiles. “No. For nine whole months, you get to carry our child. You’ll form a bond with them that I can’t understand. The ultrasound is a way that I feel like I’m a little bit closer. And I know right now, all of this is hard. You’re sick all the time, and your body doesn’t feel like your own. But it’ll get better.”
“And if it doesn’t?” I ask.
“Then, I’ll be here for you every step of the way, helping however I can.”
I look down at him. “You’re way too good for me.”
“Nope, I don’t think so.” He lifts up my shirt and talks to my belly. “And you, stop giving your mom a hard time.”
With a quick kiss, he pulls my shirt back down. “Now, let’s spend the rest of the day lounging on the couch, watching some movies, and eating some good food.”
“Now, you’re speaking my language, Scooby.”