When the timer goes off, she looks at me. “Want me to do the honors?”
“Please,” I reply as I wait for the news. I keep telling myself over and over there is no way I’m pregnant. I had a period. I HAD A PERIOD! The test is negative, and Colin and I’ll begin infertility treatments. You don’t have periods if you’re pregnant. Break through bleeding sure. But, not a period where you have to use products over multiple days.
I watch her walk to the counter and look down at the stick. She turns back around and her eyes reveal the truth before her mouth does. I’m pregnant.
The tears that I’ve been fighting to keep in check come pouring out. I must have gotten pregnant in the last couple of weeks. I can’t believe it. The realization hits me. I’m going to be a mom. Colin and I are going to be parents. Colin is going to be a daddy. Pancho will have a baby to play with. My parents and Colin’s parents will be grandparents. My sisters will be aunts. I leap to my feet and throw my arms around Doctor Starr. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”
She hugs me back and says, “Honey, I didn’t do anything. Seems like you and Colin did all the heavy lifting.”
I laugh at her cute joke.
“Now, we need to see how far along you are.” I crawl up on the exam table and wait for her questions. “When was your last period?”
“Three weeks ago.” I reply.
“That can’t be right. It’s too early to confirm a pregnancy with one of these sticks. Are you sure that your dates are right?” she says, looking in my chart as if the answer is hiding there.
“Trust me. I know exactly when I had that period,” I reply, now a bit concerned.
“Here, let’s go do an ultrasound, and see if we can see anything.”
I follow her out of the exam room and down the hall to the last door at the end, hoping that this gown is providing at least a degree of modesty. She knocks once, and then opens it. I lie down on the table as she dims the lights. She takes a seat on a bright-blue plastic rolling-stool.
She flips on the monitor and grabs a wand, slipping a condom over it. She places a huge dollop of gel on it that she removed from a warming container.
I put my feet in the stirrups like a good girl, spreading my knees. She slides the wand inside as I feel pressure expanding me.
“Okay, Caroline. We might see your baby. We might not. Please don’t panic. This is just to see how far along you are,” she reassures me.
“I understand.” I nod my head.
I close my eyes, and pray that I’m newly pregnant. My alcohol-infused trip to Cabo cannot have happened with a life inside of me… can it? I finger my wedding ring, hoping for good news.
“Open your eyes,” Doctor Starr instructs.
I do as she asks, and roll my head to the side to see the monitor. There’s our baby, about the size of a bean. The grainy black and white image is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen. Tears roll down my cheeks as I clasp my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God, that’s my baby,” I gasp.
“Do you see that tiny flicker?” Doctor Starr says, pointing to something on the screen that looks almost like a buzzing mosquito. “That’s your baby’s very strong heartbeat.”
She does some measurements while I lay there in awe, staring at what Colin and I made together out of love. It’s hard to comprehend the tiny little being on the screen is growing inside of me. I didn’t even know that it was there thirty minutes ago, but I love him or her with everything in my soul.
Doctor Starr breaks into my love-fest. “Well, from the size and the heartbeat, I’d say that you’re about seven weeks along. So that would put your due date at,” she says turning a dial on a circular card, “around February 27.”
Panic overwhelms me. “Doctor Starr, I just got back from Cabo, and drank half a bottle of tequila in one night. I had a period, so I didn’t think I was pregnant,” I begin to explain. The feeling of plain terror is more intense than I’ve ever experienced before. What if my drinking has hurt our baby?
She cuts me off with a raised hand. “You and every other pregnant lady. It’s not ideal, but you’re fine. The baby’s obviously okay. Worry about how you’re going to tell Colin that he’s going to be a daddy.”
“But I don’t understand. I had a period. Like, I used tampons,” I start again. I can’t stop myself. I feel she needs all the facts.
“Some women still have a light period their first month of pregnancy. You saw your healthy baby, Caroline. You’re going to be a mom.” She smiles down at me while I lie on the table, feeling completely helpless.