36. Thirty-Five
Thirty-Five
Sienna
“ M rs. Moretti?” A woman, probably in her mid-forties, steps out from the doorway. Her sharp eyes scan the waiting room before locking onto me. Her warm, reassuring smile momentarily calms my anxious heart. Dr. Soroyan, renowned as one of the most esteemed gynecologists in the state, possesses a reputation that precedes her.
As soon as my pregnancy test revealed those two game-changing lines, Fabrizio, ever the meticulous planner, arranged for me to see her. Meanwhile, I was still wrestling with our fragile hopes, trying to temper our expectations and remind myself not to get swept away by premature excitement. Even now, as I rise from my seat and make my way to her office, the whole scenario feels like an out-of-body experience. A vivid memory from my teenage years rushes into my mind. I was just fourteen, sitting in a freezing examination room for my first gynecological appointment. It was there that I received the heartbreaking diagnosis: I would face significant challenges in conceiving because I only had one ovary. Just four years later, that same doctor had to perform a near-total removal of my cervix due to a malignant tumor. The prognosis was grim—I was told that carrying a pregnancy to term would be nearly impossible. Though I never fully let go of my dream of motherhood, I had gradually come to terms with the likelihood that it might never happen.
With each step closer to Dr. Soroyan’s office, a wave of dizziness washes over me, and my heartbeat quickens. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to face this reality. I don’t want the fragile ember of hope flickering within me to be extinguished. Most of all, I don’t want to disappoint Fabrizio. The joy and excitement I’ve seen in his eyes is something I desperately want to preserve. The sharp scent of disinfectant hits me as soon as I step into the treatment room, making my stomach churn.
“Please, take a seat,” Dr. Soroyan says, her voice gentle and comforting as she gestures toward the chair in front of her desk. I sit down, trying to calm my racing thoughts. “Your husband had your medical files sent over, so we don’t need to go through them again,” she continues, offering a sympathetic smile. I nod, my hands wringing in my lap as I struggle to keep them still, needing something to occupy my nervous energy. “Let me just pull up the results of your blood test,” she says. Her fingers fly over the keyboard with a speed that matches the frantic tempo of my heartbeat. After a few more clicks, she places her hands on the table and directs her full attention toward me. The pounding of my heartbeat is so loud in my ears that I can barely hear her next words.
“What?” I manage to ask, my voice trembling.
“Your blood test came back positive. You are pregnant. Congratulations,” she says, her smile widening. A whirlwind of emotions engulfs me—confusion, happiness, and sadness all at once. I feel everything and nothing simultaneously, unable to fully grasp the reality of her words.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper.
Dr. Soroyan chuckles softly, leaning back in her chair and placing her hands in her lap. “As I mentioned, I’ve already reviewed your medical history, and I understand your confusion. But modern medicine is advancing rapidly, and what seemed impossible ten years ago might not be anymore. Having one ovary that produces healthy eggs is more than sufficient; it may just take a bit longer.” Her expression turns serious. “The other issue requires more attention, but we’ve developed a method in recent years that has proven quite successful. It may sound a bit barbaric at first, but it significantly reduces the chances of premature birth or miscarriage,” she pauses, allowing me a moment to process her words, though I am still reeling from the revelation that I am pregnant. “We can perform a cerclage, which involves sewing your cervix shut to reduce the chance of premature birth to about 10%. If everything looks good, we can schedule the procedure for next week.” I nod absentmindedly, the information swirling chaotically in my mind. “But you should still take precautions, especially to reduce stress and physical exertion,” she adds. I nod again, the only response my body and mind can muster. Dr. Soroyan stands up, a smile on her face.
“Well, do you want to take a first look?” she asks, gesturing toward the ultrasound machine in the corner of the room. I remain seated, staring at her with wide eyes. When I don’t move, she extends her hand and gently guides me to the bed beside the ultrasound machine. “Do you want me to get your husband before we start?” she asks softly.
“Oh, um—yes. Sure. Please,” I stammer, my voice quivering with a mix of excitement and nerves. Through the emotional whirlwind of the last few minutes, I momentarily forgot about him waiting outside. The enormity of the moment was beginning to dawn on me.
“Pull up your shirt, please, and I will get him,” Dr. Soroyan instructs, her voice calm and reassuring. I comply, grateful for the chance to lie down, as my wobbly legs feel like they might give way at any moment. The sterile scent of the room and the soft hum of medical equipment add to the surreal atmosphere. Only a moment later, Fabrizio is by my side, gripping my hand tightly. His presence is a comforting anchor amidst my swirling emotions.
The warmth of his hand in mine provides a sense of grounding. Neither of us speaks as Dr. Soroyan prepares the ultrasound equipment. The room is filled with a tense anticipation, a silence that feels almost sacred. “Ready to meet your baby?” she asks, her words slicing through the silence. I nod, unable to speak, as a single tear escapes and rolls down my cheek. The prospect of seeing our baby for the first time overwhelms me. A thousand thoughts race through my mind, but I can’t articulate a single one. My husband takes a seat next to the bed, his expression mirroring my own mixture of awe and trepidation. He looks just as overwhelmed as I feel, his eyes wide with a blend of fear and excitement.
“Sorry, that’s going to feel a little bit cold now,” Dr. Soroyan warns as she applies the gel to my belly, the coolness of it jolting me back to the present moment. When she places the ultrasound probe on my abdomen, the screen next to us flickers to life, displaying a grainy, moving image.
“Oh,” I gasp, my heart racing. The image is blurry at first, but then it begins to take shape, revealing the tiny form of our baby.
“What?” Fabrizio asks, his voice tinged with concern. “Is something wrong?” His grip on my hand tightens, and I can feel his anxiety matching my own. Immediately, a sense of dread floods my entire being.
“No, everything is excellent,” Dr. Soroyan reassures us, clicking a few buttons on her keyboard while intently studying the screen. “It’s just that your wife is farther along than expected.”
“How far?” Fabrizio inquires, his voice a mixture of curiosity and relief. The tension in the room eases slightly as we both process this new information.
“Well, it looks like she’s just successfully completed her first trimester,” Dr. Soroyan explains, her eyes still on the screen.
“So, how far is that exactly?”
“Hm, given the baby’s size, about 13 weeks,” she responds matter-of-factly. The numbers swirl in my mind, and a lump forms in my throat as more tears well up in my eyes. The reality of our situation is beginning to sink in. I glance up at Fabrizio, who gently drags his knuckles along my cheek, wiping away my happy tears.
“We’re having a baby,” he whispers, his voice filled with wonder. The words hang in the air, a beautiful affirmation of the journey we are embarking on together.
A moment later, Dr. Soroyan adjusts some settings, and the room is suddenly filled with a strong, steady throbbing sound. “Is that…?” I begin, my breath catching in my throat. “Your little one’s heartbeat,” she confirms with a warm smile.
“Yes.” The sound is mesmerizing, a rhythmic beating that seems to echo in my heart. With every tiny heartbeat, the reality of our situation sinks in a little deeper. I feel a profound connection to the life growing inside me. Fabrizio leans in closer, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. We are completely captivated by the moment, knowing that our lives have been forever changed.