Chapter 24
Mila
The OBGYN is a small and spunky blonde, and guessing by her accent, she’s not from California.
I’m waiting for her to say bless your heart and ask about the baby’s daddy, but right now she is still sweeping the wand through the jelly on my belly, smiling like this is the first time she’s seen an ultrasound.
“How can you tell?” I ask, immediately realizing how stupid the question sounds. Luckily, Dr. Marissa Williams is as sweet as sugar and doesn’t judge me for it. “I mean, the pregnancy test I took at home said I was pregnant. Which is why I am here. I just can’t really see what you’re looking at.”
“So this is the sack,” she says, motioning at the black bubble on the screen. “And this right here, this little white bean shape, that’s your baby.”
“That’s a baby?” I ask like an idiot.
“Yep. If we zoom in, you can see the outline of the head even though it’s really deformed right now. She just hasn’t grown into a baby shape yet.”
“She?” I ask. “Can you already tell?”
“Oh, heavens, no! I just have feelings about these sorts of things. What do you think?” she asks.
“About any of it. The gender. The idea of being a mama,” she smiles, and while this chick is a bit flighty, I can tell she’s not dumb.
I guess my reaction right now isn’t typical.
At least not the typical reaction of someone who was trying to get pregnant with the love of their life only to finally get that positive test.
“I’m not sure,” I answer, staring at the ceiling. “It’s wild. I wasn’t, I mean, I didn’t—” I stop. I’m tearing up, and I don’t know why. It’s embarrassing and a little annoying. She doesn’t seem to mind and hands me a tissue.
“There’s no right answer to that question, honey,” she says sweetly.
“Finding out you’re pregnant can evoke all kinds of feelings, not always the ones we expect.
It’s life-changing, no matter what the circumstances are.
It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. In fact, I’d say that’s the most normal way to feel. ”
“I feel stupid saying it, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t know how it happened,” I admit with a sniff. She just smiles warmly.
“Hon, I think that’s understandable. If you were sexually active before, I’d assume you would be on the pill and using condoms. But if you weren’t, there’s no point in taking birth control. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, a condom is the last thing on our minds,” she says.
No kidding.
“You are pregnant, and you have to decide how you feel about it. Do you have support?” She asks, and I turn my head on the pillow to look at her.
“Support?” I parrot.
“Family. Friends. A partner,” she elaborates.
“I…I have friends,” I say.
“Well, I’m sure you will make a wonderful mother. I can also give you some resources and pamphlets. One thing a lot of mamas who feel a little alone don’t realize is just how many resources there are. There is information on everything from birthing classes to breastfeeding.”
“Of course,” I say, my voice coming out a bit hollow.
She smiles and places a hand on my arm. “It’s a lot, I know. But things always work themselves out,” she says. I nod and use the tissue again. “Now, do you wanna hear the heartbeat?” She asks and I blink.
“The heartbeat?” I ask, and she nods. “Is it–she–big enough? I mean, am I far enough along?”
“Oh heavens, yes,” she says. She moves the wand around until a whooshing, thumping sound comes over the speaker.
It’s quick, rhythmic, and strong. I need another tissue.
Maybe the whole box. Because she just confirmed what the little stick, weird cravings, and the nausea already told me, even though I didn’t want to believe it.
“That is a perfect heartbeat,” she says as she clicks a couple buttons. A machine next to us spits out photos, and she shuts everything off. She hands me more tissues and uses some to wipe the jelly off my belly and helps me sit up. “How are you feeling?”
Great question. A question that has so many answers and none at all.
It’s like she understands, smiles again, and pats me on the knee.
“It’s a lot, I know. Stick close to your friends.
Read those pamphlets and don’t forget to breathe.
Also, don’t forget to enjoy it. Pregnancy is a beautiful thing, even if it wasn’t planned. ”
She hands me the photos and walks out, giving me privacy so I can change back into my clothes.
For a moment, I just sit there, staring at the black and white photos.
It’s hard to make out the images, but they are proof that there is a life inside of me.
Proof that my life is about to change. The big question is how do I tell him?
And what do I do when he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me after I do?