Chapter 20
Life
Lenzin
Ileft the arena without saying a thing to anyone. Kilovac knew something was up. I’m surprised he didn’t follow me. I was early. Not polite early. Nervous early. Twenty minutes to be precise.
The waiting room is alive with soft conversation of expecting mothers, and very few fathers. A toddler across the room presses his hands against the glass of an aquarium, a real one, not the ‘boy aquarium’, squealing Nemo at the orange fish. Cute as hell.
Knee bouncing, I check the time again. Her appointment is in five minutes. I hope everything’s okay.
I have to remind myself I don’t get anxious. In my life, I’ve always played defense. I don’t sweat anything until I’m face-to-face with it, and then I deal.
Hildy steps inside, coat wrapped tight, hair loose over her shoulders. She literally brought me to my knees for the first time in years the night I met her, but right now, Hildy is absolutely glowing. She scans the room once and finds me immediately, and heads to the reception desk to check in.
I briefly debate whether I should go be by her side, but I know how independent she is because I, too, have always been. I’ve always prided myself on it, but now, now I don’t want to be. I need to go easy, so I stay seated.
“You’re early,” she says as I stand and help her take her coat off.
“Traffic was light.”
She gives me that look. “You left forty minutes ago.”
How the hell does she know this?
She exhales through her nose, amused. “Group chat. They were all concerned.”
“They are all nosey,” I correct.
“And they say women gossip.” She jokes as she sits down.
“Whoever they are have not spent enough time in locker rooms,” I admit.
When they call her name, I rise immediately.
The nurse smiles politely at me. “Are you—”
“He’s coming,” Hildy says calmly.
We follow the nurse down the hallway, through a door and into a room, where she checks weight and vitals before leaving with instructions for her to change into a gown.
A small part of me feels like she needs a bit of privacy, but when she quickly changes, barely showing any skin, I realize I was wrong.
I like this, I like it a lot.
“You okay?” She asks, sitting on the edge of the exam table.
“You were fast.”
“I had four roommates, and now a toddler, privacy and time are scarce.”
“Not even a nip slip,” I whisper and mock gasp. She shakes her head. “How is Lucy today?”
“Lucy was nervous before we even got here,” she says quietly.
“Why?”
“We visited two preschools this morning. Both said they require up-to-date immunizations before enrollment.”
I nod slowly.
“She’s mostly caught up,” Hildy continues, “but Dr. Kaplan wants to review a few things.”
Dr. Kaplan is Lucy’s pediatrician.
“She thought she was getting shots while you were up here?” I ask.
“She thought maybe,” Hildy says. “I assured her Dr. Kaplan wouldn’t do so without us talking first. Reassured her she was just looking at her arm, checking records, and we’d discuss it when I got done.”
“She didn’t want you to leave.” I surmise.
Hildy shakes her head. “No.”
Something tightens in my chest.
“I told her I’d be right upstairs,” she says. “Same building. Just different floors and rooms.”
“She trusts you. That speaks volumes.”
“She wants to. It’s just when she gets to that place, there’s more change.” She shakes her head. “I know that’s part of life and she’ll adjust, but…” She leaves it at that.
“How do you feel about the schools you visited?” She glances at me briefly.
She lifts a shoulder, “They’re better than where she was, and they are recommended by OCFS.”
The Bears have an on-site childcare center. Secure. Structured. Staffed. I could take her when I’m home. Pick her up after practice. Less transition anxiety. Many friendly faces. I don’t say it yet. That conversation isn’t for now, it’s for later.
There’s a knock.
A female doctor enters. Late thirties. Blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. Direct eyes.
“Good morning. I’m Dr. Elise Hartmann.” She shakes Hildy’s hand first. Then mine. “How are we feeling?”
Hildy answers with facts. Nausea tapering. Fatigue is present but manageable. No bleeding. Mild early cramping that resolved.
Dr. Hartmann nods. “At sixteen weeks, that’s all consistent with a healthy progression.” She scrolls through the tablet. “I see your early HCG levels were elevated.”
“Elevated is bad?” I ask.
“Elevated can mean many things,” she replies smoothly. “Hormone levels vary significantly between pregnancies. Your numbers were on the higher side but not outside normal limits. We monitor patterns more than single values.”
Patterns. Progression. Measured language. I can handle this.
“We’ll redraw labs today,” she continues. “Just to ensure everything remains within limits.” She scrolls again. “And you have an IUD?”
Hildy nods. “I had just had it implanted a week before I got pregnant. I was told it was effective immediately based on the time of my cycle.”
“It’s possible it shifted,” Dr. Hartmann says.
“These devices are highly effective, but partial expulsion or migration can occur. In your case, it likely moved enough to allow implantation. We’ll check to make sure it’s not currently positioned in a way that could compromise the pregnancy.
At this stage, removal can pose a greater risk than leaving it in place.
We will continue to check its position with imaging. ”
I tense and so does Hildy, but I man up and attempt to comfort her by taking her hand.
“After the exam, we’ll also redraw blood. Those results won’t be immediate,” she says. “We’ll call if anything is abnormal.”
Abnormal. I don’t like that word.
Hildy lies back and puts her feet in stirrups. I do not look down; I lock my eyes with hers. There’s concern in them. I don’t like that she’s worried, but I also do because it says she wants this child, our child.
Or perhaps it’s because I appear to be too relaxed? Like I’ve done this a hundred times. If that’s the case, I’ll have to admit that I did my research on what to expect, and let me tell you, if men had to go through these types of exams, there would be a hell of a lot fewer children.
“Alright,” Dr. Hartmann says when she finishes with the exam and pushes her stool back and stands. “We’ll keep an eye on it, but I’d rather not remove it at this stage.”
“I agree,” I say without thought.
Hildy smirks, very briefly. The nurse draws her blood, and she doesn’t even flinch. Me, I can’t say the same.
When the nurse leaves, Dr. Hartmann looks at us, “Ready for the ultrasound?”
“Yes.” She states as the doctor dims the lights.
“Very romantic,” I whisper, and Hildy smirks.
“I’m going to put some gel on your belly, it will be cool,” she says as she does just that. Then she takes the device, “A little pressure and,” she pauses and turns the screen so we can see it.
Sound. Fast. Rapid. Alive. The heartbeat fills the room, and my throat tightens.
“There we are,” Dr. Hartmann says. “Strong cardiac activity.”
She measures carefully.
“At sixteen weeks gestation, we expect the crown-to-rump measurement to be approximately eleven to twelve centimeters.” Click.
“Measuring eleven point nine centimeters. Exactly where we want it.” Exactly.
She adjusts the handheld device. “Femur measuring approximately one point nine centimeters. Appropriate for gestational age.”
I note that she does each measurement twice, which means she’s cautious. I like that.
Movement flickers across the screen. I don’t understand the shapes. But I understand that it’s there.
“All indicators are consistent with healthy sixteen-week pregnancies,” she says.
Healthy…
She smiles. “Would you like to know their sex?”
“No,” Hildy says immediately.
“Their?” I ask.
I glance at her. She doesn’t look at me.
Dr. Hartmann smiles knowingly but doesn’t comment. She studies the screen a moment longer than necessary. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad, you’re having twins.”
“What?” Hildy’s voice squeaks.
Me, I say nothing, as I am still a bit… shocked.
“Everything looks perfect,” Dr. Hartmann’s smile broadens.
“The only concern I have is that you’ve only gained eight pounds since your appointment with your previous doctor.
We’d expect between ten and sixteen. And since you’re already a bit underweight, I want you to up your protein and healthy carbs. ”
“Twins?” She asks, voice wobbling a bit.
I squeeze her hand, “We’ve got this.”
“When you check out, the receptionist will set your next appointment. Please feel free to call with any questions.”
When she leaves, Hildy curls up into a ball, and her shoulders start to shake. She’s crying.
“I promise that—”
“You can’t even begin to imagine,” she stops, and sniffs back tears. “If I don’t get custody, she’s going to feel like I’m replacing her.”
Lucy.
“You’ll get custody, I can promise you —”
“No, you can’t,” she whispers. “Nothing is one hundred percent.”
I stand up and lift her chin, her eyes meet mine, “I can promise you this, Hildy, because we won’t stop until she shares our last name.”
“Ours?” She nearly chokes.
“One day, yes, of course. Yours, mine, Lucy’s, and our little ones to come.”
She slides off the other side of the exam table and grabs her clothes, sputtering under her breath as she dresses the same way she undressed, quickly, and without showing any of the goods.
Which, quite honestly, right now, I need to take the feeling of …
rejection out of my head. But I’m pretty sure requesting that she flash me a tit would not go over well right now. Yet still…
When finished, she clears her throat and squares her shoulders and stiffly states, “I’m ready.”
I step in front of her, “Are you … happy?”
She looks at me like I’m insane.
“Bad timing?” I ask.
“Ask me that again in like, eighteen years,” she says as she side steps me.
“I’m not sure I can promise that I will do that, but I will give you time to let it all settle in.”
She turns and looks at me, “Like you’re ready for twins?”
“I am.”