Ten weeks later…

I lie back on the examining table and try to get comfortable as Shane brushes my hair back from my face. My nerves are absolutely frayed and my heart is racing.

“Are you excited?” he says, smiling at me.

For a moment, I lose myself in those crystal blue eyes. “Yes. But I’m also a nervous wreck.”

He chuckles. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Just relax.”

We’re alone in the small room, waiting for my obstetrician to join us. Today, I’m having my twenty-week ultrasound. If we’re lucky – that is, if the baby cooperates – we’ll find out what we’re having. I’m so tired of calling the baby it. I really want to know what we’re having. I want to know who we’re having.

There’s a knock at the door just before it opens, and in walks Dr. Shaw. “Hello, Beth, Shane. How are you?”

“We’re fine,” I say.

Dr. Shaw shakes Shane’s hand, then mine. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. How’s the morning sickness? Any better?”

“A little,” I say. “Some days are good, others are not so good.”

“She’s able to eat more now, which is a good thing,” Shane says.

Dr. Shaw walks around to the far side of the examining table and takes a seat at the padded stool beside the ultrasound machine. She lifts my maternity top and runs her hand over my slightly-rounded belly. “Well, let’s see what we can see.”

“I’m not showing very much,” I say, voicing my primary concern. I’m at the halfway point, and I thought I’d be bigger by now. I’ve been eating like a horse lately, but my belly’s hardly showing. I worry that maybe the baby’s too small or something’s wrong.

“Oh, you’re fine,” she says. “It’s your first pregnancy. Your body’s still learning what it’s supposed to do. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Dr. Shaw picks up a bottle of gel and squirts a good amount right onto my belly. Then she picks up the probe attached to the ultrasound machine and presses the end of it into the glob of gel, then starts smearing it around my lower belly. The machine is on, making noises and displaying an image on the screen that makes little sense to my untrained eye.

She moves the probe around, pressing into my belly and pivoting, as she locates the baby. “Here we go,” she says. “Let me make some initial measurements, and then I’ll introduce you to your baby.”

When she’s finished taking the baby’s measurements, she gives us an optimal view of our baby. “Here’s your little darling,” she says, pointing at the monitor.

All I can do is stare mesmerized at the little body on the screen. The baby’s lying on its back, and the head is to the right, clear as can be. I can make out the forehead, the eyes, nose, and tiny little mouth. The baby’s fist is hovering right over its mouth, and then to my surprise, the fist touches the baby’s mouth and it looks like he’s sucking on his fist. Oh, my God.

“Is that….” Shane says, peering in awe at the screen.

“Your baby’s sucking on its fist,” Dr. Shaw says.

“Wow,” Shane says, his gaze going from the screen to me and back again. “That’s incredible.”

Dr. Shaw points out all the features of the head, the arms and hands, the belly, and the baby’s kicking legs and feet.

“Everything looks perfect,” she says, smiling at us. “Just perfect. And now, are you ready for the big reveal?”

I take a deep breath. “Yes. Hopefully the baby will cooperate.”

Dr. Shaw looks at Shane. “Well, Dad, are you ready?”

He nods. “Yes.”

Dr. Shaw moves the probe to a different spot and searches for just the right angle. “Here we are,” she says. “At least he’s not bashful. Meet your new son.”

“It’s a boy,” I say, with a stunned expression that quickly morphs into a smile. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, because there was a fifty percent chance he’d be a boy. For some reason, whenever I envisioned our child, I pictured a miniature version of Shane.

Shane bends down to kiss me, a pleased smile on his face. “We’re having a boy.”

Dr. Shaw wipes the gel off my belly with a towel and lowers my top. She pats my belly. “Keep up the good work, mom. I’ll see you again in four weeks.”

* * *

After I make my follow-up appointment, we walk out of the clinic and head to Shane’s Jaguar. Shane opens the front passenger door for me and helps me in. As I settle in my seat, he leans in and buckles my seat belt.

“So, we’re having a boy,” he says, as he lays his hand on my belly.

I don’t think the news has quite sunk in yet, for either of us.

“How about some lunch for you and the little guy?” he says. “Does Tavern on Rush sound good?”

I nod, placing both of my hands on my burgeoning belly. It might be just my imagination, but I swear I feel a tiny little fluttering deep inside me. I smile. “That sounds good. The baby and I approve.”

The end… for now.