Chapter 26 #2
The exam room was small but clean, with the expected paper-covered table, a chair for visitors that looked about as comfortable as a concrete block, and medical equipment I tried not to look at too closely.
Posters on the walls showed fetal development stages and nutritional guidelines.
A model of a pregnant belly sat on the counter, the kind that showed the baby's position at different stages, and I had to look away before my anxiety could spiral into full panic.
“Go ahead and have a seat up on the table,” Jessica said, gesturing to the exam table covered in crinkly paper that would announce every movement. “Dr. Nysor will be in shortly. She'll want to do an ultrasound today since this is your first visit, so we'll get you all set up for that.”
She left, closing the door with a soft click, and suddenly it was just Connor and me in the quiet room with nothing but the hum of medical equipment and my racing heart.
“You okay?” Connor asked, already moving to help me up onto the table even though I could have managed myself. His hands on my waist were gentle, steadying me in more ways than one.
“Yeah.” I settled on the table, the paper crinkling loudly under me and making me wince. “Just nervous. What if something's wrong? What if the baby's not—”
“Then we'll deal with it.” Connor pulled the visitor chair closer until his knees brushed against my dangling legs, his hands finding mine. “Together. Harper, whatever the doctor says, whatever we find out, we're in this together. All of it.”
I nodded, trying to believe him, trying to quiet the anxious what-ifs that wouldn't stop circling like vultures.
A knock on the door made us both jump, then it opened to reveal a woman in her fifties with warm brown skin, kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and an easy smile that immediately knocked my anxiety down a few notches.
She wore professional slacks and a white coat over a floral blouse, her hair pulled back in a neat bun.
“Harper? I'm Dr. Nysor.” She extended her hand, and I shook it, feeling the firm confidence of someone who'd done this thousands of times and knew exactly what she was doing. “And you must be dad?” She turned to Connor with a knowing smile.
“Connor Whitaker.” He shook her hand too, that respectful firmness that came from ranch upbringing and good manners.
“Wonderful. Nice to meet you both.” Dr. Nysor settled onto a rolling stool, pulling up my chart on a tablet with efficient movements.
“So, I see from your paperwork this is your first pregnancy, last period was February 20th, which would put you at about thirteen weeks if my math is right. That sound accurate?”
“I think so. I honestly didn't notice I'd missed periods until recently. Things have been—” I stopped, unsure how to word the chaos in a polite way. “Stressful.”
“Stress can definitely affect cycles,” Dr. Nysor said without judgment, her tone matter-of-fact.
“Well, let's take a look and get you a more accurate dating.
We'll do an ultrasound today. Since you're likely in the first trimester still, we'll use a transvaginal probe to get better images. Is that okay with you?”
I nodded, my throat suddenly too tight to speak.
“Great. Go ahead and step into the attached bathroom and undress. Here’s a sheet to wrap around yourself when you come back out and you can leave it on top of your lap for modesty.” She handed me the folded sheet and gestured to the door in the opposite corner before turning to prep her machine.
Once I was out of my pants and back up on the table, she pulled the stirrups out of the table and helped me position my feet into them.
“Connor, you're welcome to stay up by Harper's head if you'd prefer, or you can sit where you can see the screen. Whatever makes you both comfortable.”
Connor moved without hesitation to my head, his hand finding mine immediately like a lifeline. “Right here,” he said quietly. “I'm right here.”
I laid back on the table, the paper crinkling again as I adjusted my position, and Dr. Nysor dimmed the lights. A screen lit up nearby, black and empty and waiting to show us something I could barely let myself imagine.
“This might be a little uncomfortable,” Dr. Nysor warned as she prepared the ultrasound wand, covering it in gel and a protective sheath with practiced efficiency. “Just try to relax as much as you can.”
I flinched as she inserted the wand, the sensation strange, uncomfortable, and invasive in a way that made me want to crawl out of my skin. Connor's hand tightened on mine, his other hand smoothing my hair back from my face with infinite gentleness.
“Just breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You're doing great.”
I closed my eyes, focusing on his voice instead of the discomfort, on the solid warmth of his hand, on breathing through the—
Connor sucked in a breath and my eyes flew open immediately, turning toward the screen.
Oh my God.
There, on the black and white screen, Dr. Nysor was pointing to something with her free hand. A small, bean-shaped blob with a pulsing, flickering center that moved with a rhythm I couldn't believe was real.
“There's your baby,” Dr. Nysor said, her voice warm with the kind of joy that said she never got tired of this moment, never stopped being amazed. “And there,” she pointed to the pulsing center. “That's the heartbeat.”
I stopped breathing completely, my lungs forgetting how to function.
Our baby's heartbeat. Flickering on the screen like a tiny beacon of life, fast, strong, and enlightening in a way that made everything else fade away.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, tears spilling over without my permission, hot and unstoppable. “Connor—”
“I see it.” His voice was thick with emotion, choked with tears he wasn't trying to hide. “Harper, I see it. That's our baby.”
We watched in awed silence as Dr. Nysor moved the wand slightly, getting different angles, the image on the screen shifting and changing. The baby moved slightly, the heartbeat never stopping its rapid flutter.
Dr. Nysor froze the screen, and suddenly I could see it more clearly through my tears. The bean shape had definition now of a head that was disproportionately large, a body, tiny limb buds that would become arms and legs. A person. A tiny, perfect person growing inside me.
“Let me get some measurements,” Dr. Nysor said, her voice professional but kind, giving us space to process.
She clicked on the screen, drawing lines from one end of the baby to the other, typing numbers I didn't understand.
“Based on crown-rump length, I'm measuring you at about six weeks. So you conceived around April 2nd, give or take a few days.”
I counted back, trying to remember through the fog of emotion what happened on or around April 2nd and my heart stuttered when I remembered.
April 3rd was the day Jaxon proposed to Anna.
Either that morning when Connor had pulled me into his kitchen and laid me on the table before guests arrived, both of us desperate, and needy.
Or that night after everyone left when we were still riding the high of celebrating their engagement and future happiness.
Either way, our baby had been conceived on one of the happiest days we'd had together. Fresh tears spilled over, and I couldn't have stopped them if I tried.
Dr. Nysor unfroze the screen, the heartbeat kept flickering, kept pulsing, kept proving this was real and happening and perfect.
“Heartbeat looks strong,” Dr. Nysor said, her voice warm with approval. “Measuring right at 164 beats per minute, which is perfect for this stage. Everything looks exactly as it should. You have a very healthy little bean in there.”
“Really?” Connor's voice was raw with emotion, vulnerable in a way I rarely heard. “Everything's okay? The baby's healthy?”
“Everything looks great,” Dr. Nysor confirmed with a smile. “Harper, you're doing a wonderful job already. Let me print you some pictures to take home.”
She pressed a button, and somewhere nearby a printer whirred to life. Then she was removing the wand carefully, and I could finally breathe properly again even as I immediately missed seeing the baby on the screen, missed that flickering heartbeat that proved everything.
“Sit up slowly,” Dr. Nysor instructed, her hand hovering near my shoulder in case I needed support. “Sometimes the ultrasound can make people lightheaded.”
Connor helped me sit, his hands steady on my shoulders, and Dr. Nysor handed me tissues to clean up before Connor helped me pull my clothes back into place. The lights came back up, too bright after the dimness, and reality settled back in around us.
Dr. Nysor retrieved several printouts from the machine. Glossy black and white images that showed different angles of our baby. She handed them to me with a smile that said she did this part with joy every single time.
“Four copies for you. I always print extras because grandparents-to-be tend to want their own.” She winked. “Now, let's talk about what happens next.”
She spent the next fifteen minutes going over guidelines I tried desperately to absorb through the fog of emotion still clouding my brain.
No coffee, my heart sank at that one, but I'd give up caffeine and anything else for this baby.
No alcohol, obviously. No deli meats or soft cheeses because of listeria risk.
Prenatal vitamins daily. Plenty of water.
Rest when I needed it. Call immediately if I had any bleeding or severe cramping.
She scheduled our next appointment for six weeks out, when we'd be at twelve weeks and could maybe hear the heartbeat with a doppler and gave me a folder full of information about first trimester development and what to expect.
“Any questions?” Dr. Nysor asked as she finished typing notes.
“When can we find out if it’s a boy or girl?” I asked calmly now that all of the anxiety had left my system.
“Usually around twenty weeks, at the anatomy scan where we check all the organs and measurements.” She smiled knowingly. “Some parents like to wait and be surprised. No pressure either way. You have plenty of time to decide.”
We thanked her, and then Connor and I were walking back down the hallway in a daze, through the waiting room where new patients sat waiting, out into the bright sunshine that seemed almost shocking after the dim exam room.
I stood outside the clinic, blinking in the light like I'd emerged from a cave, clutching the ultrasound photos in my hand like they might disappear if I didn't hold on tight enough.
“Harper.”
Connor's voice made me turn. He was looking at me with such love, such absolute devotion and wonder, that it made my chest ache with how much I loved him back.
Then he cupped my face with both hands, his palms warm and slightly rough against my skin, and pulled me into a kiss that was deep and thorough.
Full of every emotion we'd just experienced in that small exam room.
I melted into him, one hand gripping his shirt for balance, the other careful of the ultrasound photos that were already starting to curl slightly at the edges.
When we finally pulled apart because breathing was unfortunately necessary, I was laughing—full of more joy than I'd felt in probably my entire life.
“We saw the baby,” I said, the words feeling impossible even as I said them. “Connor, we saw our baby's heartbeat.”
“I know.” He was crying too, unashamed tears tracking down his face into his stubble. “Harper, I've never seen anything like that. Never felt—” He stopped, unable to find words big enough for what he was feeling.
I held up the ultrasound photos, and we both looked at them in the sunshine. The images were clearer now than they'd been on the screen. Our baby in profile, that distinctive bean shape with the flutter of heartbeat frozen in one perfect moment.
“Six weeks,” I said, doing the mental math that felt impossible. “That means the baby will be here in—”
“Early January,” Connor finished, his voice full of wonder. “Around New Year's. Harper, we're going to have a baby for New Year's.” The reality of it, the timeline, the fact that in less than eight months I'd be holding this tiny person, made me dizzy with anticipation.
“I can't believe this is real,” I whispered.
“It's real.” Connor pulled me close again, one hand moving to my stomach, pressing gently against the place where our baby was growing with its perfect heartbeat. “It's real, and it's ours, and it's perfect.”
We stood there on the sidewalk outside the clinic, both of us touching my stomach even though there was nothing to feel yet, both of us staring at the ultrasound photos that proved our baby existed.
Around us, Main Street continued its normal Friday afternoon rhythm. Cars drove past, people window shopped, and in the distance, you could hear someone’s car radio. The world kept turning, completely unaware that ours had just shifted into something entirely new.
I barely noticed. My only focus was on Connor's hand warm on my stomach, on the photos showing our baby frozen in time, on the future that was suddenly so clear and bright and terrifying and wonderful all at once.
We were having a baby.
In a little over seven months, everything would change.