The medical assistant asked if I wanted Connor in the room with me while they did the ultrasound, and of course I said yes. This was the part that scared me the most — logically I knew it was just a baby and that everything should be fine at this point — but damn straight I was going to have Connor at my side as I got the first true confirmation that the baby was real. Okay, yes, I’d done the home pregnancy test, and had it confirmed at Planned Parenthood, but that wasn’t the same thing as hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the first time.
Dr. Ruiz was probably in her early forties, with her dark hair cut in the kind of sleek bob I envied because I knew I could never get my own half wavy/half curly hair to do anything that controlled. She also seemed always calm, always unhurried, even though her waiting room was full and she had to be chomping at the bit to get out of there and start her own long weekend…most likely praying that none of her patients would go into labor while she was attending a barbecue.
Probably because mine was a very low-risk pregnancy, she’d decided a transvaginal ultrasound wasn’t necessary at this stage. I lay there in a pink paper examination robe while she poured cold goo on my stomach and then began the procedure. Connor stood next to me, holding my hand.
“Okay,” she said, peering at the monitor as she moved the ultrasound wand slowly over my belly, “the baby looks good, just about the right size and in the right position. And there’s the heartbeat. Nice and strong.” But then she paused, a line appearing between her brows as she frowned.
“What is it?” I asked, worry pulsing like ice through my veins. “Is something wrong?” Connor’s fingers tightened around mine, but he didn’t say anything, just stood there, waiting.
“Just a sec….” She was moving the sensor back and forth over my belly, her dark eyes intent on the screen. “Wait…got it!”
“Got what?” I asked, thinking, Are there any congenital birth defects in the Wilcox family? No, that’s crazy…I’ve met most of them…they’re all fine….
Sometimes it would be really nice if I could just get my brain to shut up.
The worry line disappeared, and she smiled at us. “Well, you two are going to have your hands full. It looks like you’re carrying twins, Angela.”
“Twins?” I said blankly.
“Yes. One is mostly hidden by the other, so it’s hard to see right now. But look there.” She pointed at a blot on the ultrasound screen. To me it just looked like a paler blip against an amorphous darkness, with the faintest little trace of…something…behind it.
“That’s our baby…our babies?” I asked, reflecting it was a good thing I’d never had a burning desire to be an ultrasound technician. I had a feeling I wouldn’t have been very good at it.
“Yes. They look about the same size, which is good. And this explains why some of your blood test results came back so high. The hormones in your bloodstream are elevated because you’re carrying two babies, not one.”
“But everything else is okay?” Connor asked. His expression was, in a word, gobsmacked. Not that I could blame him. One baby was enough to handle, but twins?
“Perfectly okay,” Dr. Ruiz assured him. “They’re a good size, and their heartbeats are strong, in the 116 to 118 range. No reason why they shouldn’t be — Angela is a very healthy young woman.” Her gaze flicked back to me. “But because you’re carrying twins, you need to make sure you’re eating enough to properly nourish both of them — ”
“That’s not a problem,” Connor remarked with a grin. “She’s been eating her weight lately.”
I shot him a mock-severe glare, but Dr. Ruiz merely said, “That’s good to hear, although you should be putting on more weight than you are. Worry about losing the baby weight after you have the babies.”
Babies. Plural. It was such an alien concept that I still wasn’t sure exactly how to process it.
“I’ll do my best,” I told her. “But Connor’s right. I’ve been eating just about anything that isn’t nailed down. I’ve always had a fast metabolism, though.”
“Okay, we’ll keep an eye on it.” She turned to the medical assistant, who’d been hovering in the background during the procedure. “Lora, let’s have Angela back here in three weeks.”
That sounded like an awfully long time to go between appointments. I must have looked dubious, because the doctor went on, “Everything’s going well, so I don’t see any need to make you come in before that. However, if anything feels off to you, if you have any bleeding or severe nausea or cramps — any of that — call us immediately. Okay?”