Chapter 3
Ididn’t want to see a doctor.
I had been ignoring the clinic emails since I moved onto campus in July. They kept popping up in my student portal like reminders I didn’t want to see.
Free health services.
Confidential appointments.
Walk-ins welcome.
I told myself I didn’t need it. I told myself I was fine.
Women have been carrying babies for years.
I told myself that my body knew what to do.
I thought that as long as I kept quiet, Xander was mine.
Told myself I was protecting my miracle from the loud, ugly world.
As long as I took the prenatal vitamins that I brought over the counter at the local mom-and-pop pharmacy, I could carry Xander without anyone interfering.
When my parents called, they noted that I sounded a bit better.
I assured them I was adjusting to school.
When they began to discuss Thanksgiving and Christmas plans, I asked to stay on campus.
My mother began her dramatic ass protest, but once I told her I didn’t need home opening up the Xavier wound, she agreed that me remaining on campus would be best. My dad offered to rent a house in my college town for the holidays, but I told them I was thinking about signing up for mission work over Christmas.
My dad was elated at the idea of my tapping back into religion.
After the call, I sighed in relief. I knew I couldn’t keep the secret of Xander forever, but I needed to keep it long enough that no one would try to force me to terminate my blessing.
I had started writing at least five different letters to X to tell him we were pregnant, but I couldn’t get past the second line on each draft.
For starters, I didn’t know which prison he was in, and I even tried to ask YaYa once, but she changed the subject on the phone as if she hadn’t heard me. Then, when I got over that hurdle and told myself I could call each prison pretending to be his mom or his wife, I didn’t know what to say.
Would I ask him how he’s doing? That seemed dumb.
Of course, he wasn't doing well. My brother, Jared, and I wrote about TV shows. We both watched Flavor of Love and wrote about the contestants that have been eliminated and how we were more appalled than anyone wanted Flav’s ass.
But Jared and I were never on bad terms, and this has been our norm since I was in middle school.
Would I tell Xavier that he would be a dad again? But what if he asked me to take Xander to meet a host of kids that also began with the letter X? I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so Xander remained mine and mine only.
I glanced at the clinic emails again. That morning felt different. I sat on the edge of my bed longer than usual, my hand resting against my stomach.
Sometimes, I talked to my baby. Not loudly, but little phrases so they got used to the sound of my voice. I read somewhere that a baby begins to recognize the sound of their mom’s voice in the second trimester, and if my calculation was right, I was there.
I would whisper little phrases to Xander:
You good?
Mommy loves you!
I got you, sweet pea.
I decided I should go to the clinic. I swallowed hard and stood up. I grabbed my hoodie and began to walk to the west wing of campus. I began walking because if I thought too much, I wouldn’t go.
* * *
The clinic felt sterile. It smelled too clean. It was reeking of chemicals and something floral – probably the purple Fabuloso trying to cover it up.
The waiting room was quiet. A few girls sat scattered around, flipping through magazines or staring at their phones as if they didn’t want to be noticed. I checked in without saying much. I kept my answers short. I gave the receptionist my name and student ID number.
The nurse smiled at me as if she had seen this before.
She was an older Black lady who looked to be my mom’s age.
Her friendliness eased the ache in my chest from doing this all alone.
Every girl dreams about being pregnant. We think of a doting husband, or at least a best friend, to support you during an ultrasound visit.
I had neither. I would never have guessed that YaYa would stop being my best friend.
I couldn’t imagine her agreeing with Mom instead of me.
While she never verbatim agreed with Sharon’s worrisome ass she never disagreed.
It was in what YaYa didn’t do. She didn’t protest against my going to school early.
She didn’t help me move in. She didn’t allow me to cry on her shoulders.
She just vanished. Her dry ass text messages and occasional calls didn’t change the fact that I needed my sister.
How could I be her Baby Bear, and I was having a baby, and she had no clue?
The kind lady cleared her throat to get my attention.
“Have a seat, sweetheart. They’ll call you back shortly.”
I nodded and sat down, pulling my sleeves over my hands.
My leg bounced slightly without me meaning it to. I pressed my palm against my stomach again. After a few minutes, that same kind lady called my name.
“Chanel?”
I stood up and followed her down the hallway.
Each step felt louder than it should have been, as if I was walking toward something I couldn’t undo.
The room was small. I sat down slowly, my hands folded in my lap.
Dr. Aniston came in a few minutes later, introducing herself with a soft voice that didn’t feel invasive.
“Hi, Chanel. What brings you in today?”
I hesitated. Then I exhaled. “I’m pregnant.”
She nodded, not surprised. “Okay,” she said gently. “Let’s take a look and see what’s going on.”
I lay back on the table, my hoodie pushed up just enough.
My heart was beating too fast. I could hear my heart beating like Nick Cannon’s drum solo in my favorite movie.
The room went quiet except for the sound of the machine powering on.
Dr. Aniston squeezed on a tube filled with blue gel. It was cold. The gel hit my skin, and I flinched.
“Sorry, I know that’s a little cold,” she said.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was too focused on the screen.
I felt myself holding my breath. The wand moved slowly across my stomach. The doctor tilted her head slightly, eyes focused.
“There we go.”
I felt large teardrops run down my face. She turned the screen slightly toward me.
“Do you see that?”
I didn’t answer right away. I just stared at the small shape on the screen.
I always hear women say babies don’t look like anything at first, but baby Xander was fully formed. My hand moved to my stomach instinctively, as if I needed to connect the image to what I was feeling.
“That’s your baby,” she said softly.
My throat tightened.
My eyes burned.
I was so overwhelmed by the fact that it wasn’t just an idea anymore. It wasn’t just two lines on a test. The baby was there, alive, and inside of me.
“And listen to this,” she said.
She pressed a button, and then the most beautiful sound filled the room.
It was a strong sound. It was fast and rhythmic.
I froze, my breath caught somewhere in my chest. Xander was my miracle.
I couldn’t help but think back to the night my life changed forever.
The night Xavier had become a part of the system.
I was choked and slammed down by those men.
I was held hostage, and my strong baby, Xander, was already inside of me.
My baby had been there longer than I realized.
Longer than my denial.
Longer than my silence.
Longer than the nights, I cried myself to sleep, thinking I had nothing left.
“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Aniston said, bringing me back to the present.
But I already knew. Because something inside me recognized it. Xander’s heartbeat was in tune with my own. More tears filled my eyes before I could stop them.
I didn’t speak right away. I just stared at the screen. The doctor moved the wand slightly, adjusting the angle.
“You’re measuring about fifteen weeks,” she said.
The doctor smiled softly. “Everything looks good,” she said. “Strong heartbeat. Development is right where it should be.”
Everything looks good, and typically, I would make a patient wait before pointing out the sex of a baby, but your baby boy has his legs wide open. She gestured to the screen where Xander’s silly self was exposed.
I exhaled slowly, my body sinking into the table.
This was the first positive emotion I had felt since Xavier was taken from me in sirens and bullets. I didn’t feel like something was being taken from me. I felt like something had finally been given to me.
“Do you want baby boy’s picture?” she asked.
I nodded too quickly.
“Yes.”
She printed it out and handed it to me carefully, like it was something fragile.
I took it with both hands. I stared at it like I might forget what I saw if I looked away too long.
I traced the outline lightly with my finger.
Memorizing it.
Holding onto it.
Because Xander was mine.
* * *
Back in my dorm, I sat on my bed with the picture in my lap.
The room was quiet again. But it didn’t feel the same. The emptiness that used to plague this room was gone. I no longer resented Janessa never being in our room.
I rested my hand against my stomach and leaned back against the wall.
“You hear me?” I whispered softly. “I heard you today.”
My voice cracked slightly.
I swallowed, blinking down at the picture.
“You got a strong little heartbeat too.” A small, shaky smile pulled at my lips. “I like that.”
I adjusted my position, curling slightly around myself without thinking.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
The words came out before I could stop them.
“For not knowing you were there and for not taking better care of myself before.” My hand pressed gently against my stomach. “I got you now, though.”
And I meant it. In a way, I hadn’t meant anything in months. I looked back down at the picture and studied it again.
“Your name is Xander King.”
My chest tightened. “It means protector of humankind,” I said quietly, remembering.
My thumb brushed over the edge of the photo.
“You gon’ protect me and I’ma protect you.”
That night, I slept differently. It was the deepest sleep I’ve had since before I met Xavier King. I slept as if my body finally had something to rest for. I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was carrying something that made me want to live. I tried to hold onto that feeling.