Chapter 53
fifty-three
GREER
The clear jelly is cold on my still flat belly.
From the side of the exam table, Jude jogs his leg in a slow cadence.
The ultrasound technician moves the wand around in an erratic pattern until a round object comes into focus.
She swishes the wand to the side, and then our little one’s image is clear as a bell.
To me, at least. Two arms, two legs, and a big head.
He or she is already moving all four limbs around.
Jude’s grip on my hand tightens as he leans in closer to the monitor to inspect, “That’s the peanut? ”
“Yep.” She zeros in on the rapidly beating heart, proof of the life we’ve made together. I squeeze Jude’s hand, tears welling up in my eyes.
He leans down to kiss the top of my fingers, and I feel like the most cherished woman on earth. Jude sits upright and pulls in a long breath. His Adam’s apple bobs, “So we don’t know yet if it’s twins?”
My stomach rolls. Both of my grandmothers raised multiples, so I know I can as well. I prefer a gentler approach to first time parenthood, though. I already know it’s not likely. My hormone levels aren’t high enough to suggest a multiple pregnancy.
The tech clicks on the keyboard, taking still images of our unborn baby. “I didn’t see anything when I glanced. With two sets of twins as grandparents, we’re going to have a good look around.”
Jude’s forehead furrows, studying the image on the screen as if trying to make it make sense. “Are they supposed to move around that much? I’d thought they were just in there chilling out this little.”
“Nope, sometimes they’re resting, but other babies are awake and squirming. As they get bigger, they have less room, of course,” the technician answers.
The hard plastic wand puts uncomfortable pressure on my belly as she searches around, our blob disappearing. “I’m only seeing this one sac. I really think there’s one baby at this time.”
“Are you sure?” Jude demands.
“Second babies can pop up as they grow, but I don’t see a hint of another yet,” she assures.
The man who’s said repeatedly how much he wants children lets out a relieved sigh that I can understand. It’s still surprising from him, but I get it. Having a baby while diabetic is one thing. A twin pregnancy is a whole other set of risks.
It’s the neonatologist’s turn next. We’re shuffled to another room, where Jude asks my young female doctor a thousand questions that have never crossed my mind.
Is an electrolyte mix preferred in my water?
The best placement for pump sites with a bump.
Expectations at delivery and the potential for a NICU stay.
The last question is met with statistics that feel like a challenge. I’m determined that the baby and I are going to stay together post delivery. I want my little ones' first days to be spent in our arms, not hooked up to monitors.
After scheduling NIPT blood testing for my tenth week, we leave from our second visit hand in hand, both of us unusually quiet. Wanting to focus on the positive, I ask, “So the blood test will tell us the baby’s gender early?”
“Yeah. It’ll be a little while.”
I’m kind of digesting all of the information, but Jude’s grinning like the devil.
He helps me into his SUV, then reaches over to buckle my seatbelt. After climbing into the driver's seat, he cranks up the engine and adjusts the air conditioner. It’s a relief on my warmed face after a walk through the hot parking lot.
He’s buckling his own belt when he asks, “The baby is measuring right on target to have been conceived our first time together, right?”
“Yep. It only took once.”
“It’s nice to know when we made our baby, though.” He picks up the strip of glossy paper where the grainy black and white pictures are printed and begins to examine each square, “You can see more in a still image, I think. I can make out the beginning of a nose and lips.”
On a whim, I take a picture of the ultrasound close up and text it to my mother. I do love her, and want us to have a relationship. My days of being smothered, however, are over. Dad and I haven’t spoken or texted at all since the scene in my apartment. Mom’s messaged once, just “I love you.”
I answered back, “I love you too,” because that feels like all I should say right now. My relationship with my parents has to be rebuilt from the ground up for it to be healthy.
Mom
Wow. You can make out the baby so well.
Greer
We could see so much detail.
The little dot indicating someone typing begins and ends, as if my Mom is thinking how she’s going to respond. It’s a good ten minutes before I get a reply.
Mom
Send more when you get another scan, please.
Greer
Will do.
Mom
Need anything?
Greer
No, I’m good. Wanted to show off my peanut.
The dots appear, showing Mom is typing and likely deleting before finally stopping.
I know it’s killing Mom to stay relaxed and not badger me about medical stuff now that I’m pregnant. But for now it’s best that she not ask and I not offer unless it’s important.
At least it’s a beginning.