She shoots me a sympathetic smile. “You can come with her. But be quiet.”
I mime zipping my lips.
Ten minutes later, the nurse has taken Nicole’s blood pressure and vitals, and says an ER doctor will be here any minute. She leaves, and I’m alone with Nicole, who’s perched on an exam table, cradling her wrist in her lap.
“You know I’m fine, right?” she asks, gently chiding me.
“That’s why we’re here. To make sure.”
“I’m okay. I told you I’m okay.” But she doesn’t sound annoyed. She sounds like she wants to reassure me.
“It’s not just you, Nicole. It’s you and the baby.” I gently place my hand on her belly, and touching her bump feels as good as it did the first time. She smiles and presses her hand on top of mine.
“How does it feel?” she asks, her voice soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the harsh lights and sharp noises beyond the curtain.
“Amazing,” I whisper.
“I know, right? I’m barely showing, but every day my little bump astonishes me.”
“Has the baby kicked yet?” Hope rises in me. The hope that she’ll say yes, and that I might feel it.
She shakes her head. “Not yet. Probably another month.”
I turn my hand over and thread my fingers through hers. It feels so right to hold her hand.
Another smile is my reward, and so is the swift appearance of a doctor, striding into the room.
“Dr. Summers.” He extends a hand. He’s young, and his hazel eyes are kind. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”
He wheels a machine closer to the table, grabs an ultrasound wand, and slicks some gel on Nicole’s belly. As he roams her stomach like a man trawling the beach for buried treasure, he stares at the screen.
Naturally, I stare at the screen, too, jaw agape.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking baby.
Holy perfect baby. It’s all curled up, but I can see the shape of the baby’s head. The curve of the back. The knees tucked up.
It is awesome, and I don’t mean awesome like the sandwich I had for lunch was awesome. Seeing your baby is awesome in the true sense of the word—I am filled with astonishment.
That astonishment coils into something even more intense when a noise bursts into the room. It sounds like hoofs beating.
I. Can’t. Breathe.
I’m listening to our baby’s heart, and it’s the most incredible sound I’ve ever heard. I swear it moves through me, stirring up an unexpected kaleidoscope of emotions that’s magnified when I meet Nicole’s eyes. They’re wet, filled with happy tears. It’s almost too much for me to take, and I blink, looking away. When I do, I realize it’s because my eyes are threatening to fill with tears, too.
My throat catches, and I swallow roughly.
It’s as if I’ve been punched in the gut, but it doesn’t hurt. It feels shockingly wonderful, and I want to remember this moment forever. I want to recall every second of my own amazement.
“Sounds like you’ve got one healthy baby in there,” the doctor says with a smile as he wipes the gel off Nicole’s stomach. After a quick examination of her hand, he decides it looks like it’s sprained, but can be treated with ice, an ACE wrap, and, ideally, no ibuprofen. As he writes up his orders, I meet Nicole’s eyes once more. Neither one of us says a word. We just hold each other’s gazes, and I’m sure we’re thinking the same thing—our baby is healthy.
She flashes me a smile, and I return it with a goofy grin of my own.
Holy shit. Our baby is healthy.
I want to take a snapshot of this moment. I want to record every second of this strange and joyous connection I feel with her and the life growing inside her.
The doctor leaves us alone, and I bend my face to her belly and press the gentlest kiss to her skin. “Hi, baby,” I say, and I know, I fucking know, that I’m already in love with our child.
I take her home. I ice her wrist then reapply the wrap. I walk her dog around the block. When I return, I ask her if she wants me to spend the night.
“Yes.”
Romeo is already at the kennel since I leave on my trip the next day, so I don’t need to call the dog-sitter. I drop my keys with the tadpole charm on the living room table next to my phone. I take off my jeans and sweater, but that’s all. I’m not going to try anything with Nicole, given her damaged wrist. Besides, I’m not here to make a move on her. I’m here to take care of the mother of my child.
She wears fuzzy pajama bottoms with snowmen on them, and a black tank. Her breasts look bigger. I keep that thought to myself. Now is not the time to compliment those beauties. She slides under the covers, and after I brush my teeth with an extra brush she says I can use, I join her in bed. She yawns, then sighs.