Chapter 11
Alyssia
“Our doctor’s appointment.”
I don’t know why, out of everything Travis has said to me, those three words keep coming back to me.
“Did you know that by now all major organs have begun to form, our baby’s heartbeat has a regular rhythm, and his or her fingers and toes are beginning to grow,” Travis recites as he stares at his phone while I lay on the examination table.
Dr. Slosher’s assistant has come in and done the prep work for my ultrasound. Through it all, Travis hasn’t left my side.
That hollowness in the pit of my stomach that’s accompanied me on every doctor visit I’ve had since finding out I’m pregnant isn’t as acute this time around.
“How do you know that?” I ask.
He turns his phone screen toward me. “Looked it up on this website I subscribed to.”
“That’s probably why the first ultrasound is scheduled around this time. To hear the baby’s heartbeat.”
I look down at Travis. “We’re going to hear the baby’s heartbeat.”
An unreadable expression passes over his face when he looks up at me from his phone.
Something weird happens in my chest. I’m the first to look away.
It’s all of the extra hormones coursing through me.
That and the fear.
While the staff at the hospital last night did their best to assure me that things were likely okay, nothing is confirmed until this ultrasound.
Which reminds me of the terrifying thought I had this morning at breakfast. I’d originally thought it a good thing that my morning sickness had calmed down in recent days but what if that meant something worse?
Like, maybe I’m not pregnant anymore? Or the baby isn’t growing as it should?
“Also,” Travis’ voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts, “by the end of eight weeks the baby looks more like a human according to this website. Which is probably a good thing.” He peers up at me, a twinkle in his eyes. “Don’t want you giving birth to one of those tadpole-looking things.”
“What?” I blurt in surprise.
“You’ve never seen those pictures of an early fetus? Maybe calling it a tadpole is a bit insensitive, but we should ask doc to check just in case.”
“You’re crazy. I should ask Dr. Slosher if she can prescribe anything for your insanity but I’m certain that requires a different type of doctor.”
“Like a psychologist,” he adds. “Is that what you want to be?”
I jut my head back in surprise. “Where did you see that?”
“All of the graduate school program brochures you have.”
How did he even see those? Then I remember Gina and my mail this morning. Going back to school was an idea I toyed with for a while. A sort of way to honor my mom, but it’s a pipe dream now.
Dr. Slosher walks in, saving me from going into detail about my future plans.
“Alyssia, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, but, well …” Her gaze travels over to Travis, her smile thinning a touch. “My plans were changed for today. I hear you had a scare yesterday. Tell me what happened.”
I recount the bleeding that happened yesterday followed by my trip to hospital.
“They ran tests and said things looked okay, but to make an appointment with you as soon as possible.”
“Has there been any more spotting this morning?”
I cut a look over at Travis.
We hadn’t discussed the spotting. The potential that my baby—our baby, might be in trouble or worse.
“A little this morning.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Travis shifts in his chair.
Is he as scared as I am?
“As we discussed before, spotting is often a common occurrence in pregnancy,” Dr. Slosher says as she begins putting on a pair of latex gloves. “Many times it’s not a cause for concern. Add to that, you are young and healthy.”
She picks up the nodule thing for the ultrasound.
“This is going to be a little cold,” she explains before squeezing that goo onto my belly.
The instant the nodule touches my belly, my mind flashes back over the past eight weeks. From the moment I found I was pregnant, the way I consoled myself with my weight in ice cream and double chocolate cookies, to the multiple nights of catering shifts to make up for my lost income.
Did I put my baby in danger?
Has the stress of my life jeopardized a life that’s barely begun?
My teeth sink into my lower lip as I keep my eyes trained on Dr. Slosher. I can’t bear to look at the monitor to my right, not yet. I study the concentrated look on her face, the taut way she holds her mouth, the additional lines in her forehead.
The moment it feels like I can’t take the silence any longer, the room fills with a rhythmic thrumming sound.
Dr. Slosher’s face relaxes, and her eyes meet mine.
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
I finally look over at the monitor and, “Oh my God!” I breathe out. “Is that him?
“Or her?” I quickly add.
“That’s your baby.”
I stare at the black and white screen, making out the formation of a fetus. At least, that’s what I think it is. From all of the movies and shows I’ve seen of this moment, it looks exactly like what I imagined.
The head takes up about a third of the screen, followed by the slightly rounded belly and little squiggly things that I conclude are its arms and legs.
“Is it too early to find out the gender?” Travis, who stands beside me, asks.
I look to Dr. Slosher.
She nods. “Yes. The ultrasound we do somewhere around your eighteenth and twenty-second week is when you can find out the gender. You can decide before then if you want to find out.”
“I don’t know.” I look up at Travis.
A part of me would love to know, but I also enjoy the surprise of not knowing, of allowing this baby to grow and become whatever he, she, or they’re meant to become.
“I’ll follow your lead on that,” Travis says. “We have time to talk about it.” Then he squeezes my hand.
Overwhelmed by sudden emotion, I make myself look away, but my gaze lands right back on the monitor that shows our baby.
A sheen of moisture clouds my vision.
“Incredible,” I murmur.
The room falls into a silence that’s only filled by the strong heartbeat of the life growing inside of me. Last night all I felt was terror when I went to the bathroom and first saw those drops of blood.
“There’s the subchorionic hematoma,” Dr. Slosher says, drawing my attention back to the monitor.
Dr. Slosher explains what it is.
“That’s what the blog said,” Travis says, surprising me. He holds up his phone. “Did some research. It’s not serious, is it?”
Travis thankfully asks because the lump in my throat prevents me from speaking.
My doctor shakes her head. “It’s small. You haven’t had any pain, have you, Alyssia?”
“A little cramping last night but that was it. Not before or since.”
“And she was working on her feet all night,” Travis adds.
I glare at him. He returns the expression.
“That might be why. But it’s small and doesn’t look like a cause for concern. So far, everything looks great. The heartbeat is strong and steady, just what we like to see. All ten fingers and toes look to be forming properly.”
“No sixth toe?” Travis adds.
I gasp. “Are you serious right now?”
He tilts his head to the side, and I have smother my grin. “I just want to be certain we don’t need to find a doctor for the surgery you had.”
“Your records never indicated that you had any major surgeries,” Dr. Slosher says, confused.
Travis’ lips twitch.
‘Asshole,’ I mouth to him before turning back to my doctor.
“It’s too soon for hair to grow in, right? I hear that can cause heartburn,” Travis asks the doctor.
He’s asking questions I hadn’t even begun to think about. I wonder where he got the time to even consider all of them.
“Another couple of weeks for the hair to start growing.”
“I think that’s an old wives’ tale,” I tell Travis. “The hair and heartburn thing.”
He nods, his face looking serious as he stares at the monitor. “My mom had terrible heartburn during her pregnancy. But I mean, there were three of us, so that might’ve had something to do with it.”
“Three?” Dr. Slosher and I ask in unison.
Travis’ gaze drops to me. “I’m a triplet.”
I sputter. “Wh-What?”
“Multiples actually run in my family. I have two sets of twin cousins, and my dad was a twin.”
He says it so casually.
“Make sure there’s only one in there,” I tell Dr. Slosher.
She smiles, moving the wand over my lower belly. “There’s only one.”
“Bummer,” Travis says.
“Are you crazy?”
He grins. “A little.” To my surprise, he lowers and kisses my forehead.
A heated sensation courses through my entire body. I find myself staring into his eyes, Travis mirroring my stare.
Then I remember what other issue I needed to ask of Dr. Slosher.
“We also need a blood test,” I say, breaking eye contact with Travis. “One of those non-invasive paternity tests,” I explain.
Dr. Slosher looks from me to Travis from behind the rim of her glasses. “I thought—” She breaks off with a shake of her head. “It’s a simple blood test and a cheek swab.” She looks over at Travis at the same time I do.
With his jaw clenched and arms folded, he stares down at me.
“If that’s what you want,” he says, like I’m not doing this for him.
Thirty minutes later, Travis holds the door of the chauffeured car that drove us here open.
“Did he wait for us the whole time?” I point at the driver.
“Of course.” Travis gestures toward the inside of the car for me to get in. “Now that that’s out of the way, we have to start making plans for your move,” he says as the car starts moving.
“Excuse me. My what?”
He blinks.
“Your move.”
“Where?”
“To Monaco.”
I cough. “Monaco?”
He frowns. “We won’t do it until we get the okay from Dr. Slosher.” He shivers. “Glad we’re getting a new doctor with a different name. She’s fine and all, but her name sounds like she could be a serial killer. Slosher and slasher are too damn close for someone who’s taking care of our baby.”
“Excuse me?” I repeat.
“What? Tell me you hadn’t thought of it, too.”
I mean, he’s not wrong. I did realize how close her name sounded to that one type of movie genre that I always stay away from but that’s not the damn point.
“I’m not moving to Monaco.”