KATE
I bite my lip hard, wincing at the pain that follows along with the coppery taste of blood that’s beginning to seep into my mouth.
I’m not ready.
But it’s also way more than that. I’m petrified there will be nothing. That something will be wrong. That every fear that’s gone through my head and heart since I’ve found out will come to fruition.
Weston sympathizes, but he also doesn’t have a clue what struggling through something like this will do to someone. I know that he feels for me and everything I’ve endured. That’s blatantly obvious by the expressions that flicker across his deep irises and the many conversations we’ve had since he found out. I just don’t think anyone could fully understand the feelings that are ricocheting through me- especially when they haven’t personally experienced what I have. Yet, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy either.
Weston’s almost giddy. Bobbing back and forth while the ultrasound tech begins setting up some various equipment I’ve never seen before in my life. Lots of wires and tubes leading to God knows where, designed for God knows what purpose.
I avoid doctors.
I’m about 99% sure that every time I have to visit one, the doctors are more than aware that I detest them, even if they’ve done nothing more than their job. Some people hate the dentist, but me? Nope. All my hate is directed towards those in creepy white lab coats.
The goosebumps begin to break out across my skin, but when Weston’s fingers lace through mine, it miraculously eases the fluttering of nerves. It’s because of my strong, gracious, and loving man that I know, despite everything, it’s going to be okay.
I’m going to be okay.
I glance up at him and he’s looking at me a little too intently, reading me like the open book I am. And knowing myself, I’m probably broadcasting everything more vividly than a movie projector. He leans down and kisses my forehead before the technician holds up a long wand-like thing and explains she’s going to insert it into my hoohah.
“Is that,” he clears his throat. “a vibrator?”
I shake my head and cover my eyes with my right hand, unable to hold back the eye roll that ensues. He’s such a guy.
“Actually, it’s a probe that will send signals into Kate’s abdomen and pelvis. It will help us to see your baby on this screen right here and measure the growth.” She points to the rolling cart beside her.
“A probe.” His voice deepens. “Just this once, Kate, will I allow anything resembling a long penis- that isn’t mine- to enter you.”
“Dear freaking God, Weston. There’s a time and place, babe.”
He just shrugs, unashamed at the crassness of his words. The technician begins to laugh, briefly mentioning that most men have similar reactions, only further proving my theory that the male species has issues.
I sigh, blowing a puff of air out of my lungs, waiting for her to hurry up and do her thing before I have a panic attack like a mental patient.
She places a cloth over me from the waist down and instructs me to spread my legs wide and stay very still. Weston inches closer to me, his thumb rubbing circles over my palm. That miniscule movement from him helps me to not focus on the pressure of the probe entering me and, although I wince, I stay as still as I possibly can. A tiny, fast-paced thumping noise pierces the air as the scans load on the screen in front of us.
“That, Miss Benson, is your baby’s heartbeat.” I close my eyes, listening intently to the beautiful flutter, my body frozen in place as if stuck in a coma.
It’s real.
I hear a sniffle and my eyes pop open, barely missing Wes brushing a tear from beneath his eyes away. He rarely cries, and it only further makes my heart swell for this scruffy teddy bear of mine.
I pull him towards me, smashing our lips together, his fingers tangling in the hair at the back of my head. I briefly hear the technician talking in the background, but I don’t have the strength in me to pull away from Weston and this bubble of a moment that we’re having.
He eventually pulls back from me, but not before whispering, “Look what we did, babe.” It isn’t until I hear those words that the reality of our situation really clicks. In two point five seconds, tears are pouring down my cheeks and my body begins to shake.
The technician takes a few more photos at a variety of angles, then begins to clean up her cart, putting everything back into the position it was at the beginning of the appointment.
“Your OB/GYN will be just a few moments, and she’ll be able to go over the results more in depth.”
“Okay.” I nod, focusing on the realness of my scenario.
I’m going to be a mom.
There’s an actual baby growing in me. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but it is.
It is.
My OB enters and immediately goes to the scans Her eyes rake every inch repeatedly, as if she’s wanting to be 100% sure before speaking.
“—lining up perfectly. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary for you being at 12 weeks.”
“12 weeks?” Weston and I ask at the same time.
“I’m that far along? How is that possible? I’m not even showing?”
“Honestly, each woman's body is different. I’ve seen women who didn’t officially start showing until their fifth month, others I’ve seen start showing as early as eight weeks. It just varies, but do you see this?” She points to a screen, a little white blob surrounded by black darkness. “This shows your baby measuring at 12 cm which corresponds with how far along you are. There is some scarring on your uterine walls, but it doesn’t seem to be interfering with the growth of the fetus.” I take a deep breath while she continues. “I would, however, like to schedule your appointments closer together. That way we can make sure the scar tissue doesn’t affect anything as your pregnancy progresses; though I doesn’t seem like it will.”
“O-oh.” I stutter but am also feeling relieved at the same time. The damage from my past isn’t affecting this baby. That’s the best news I could have ever heard or prayed for.
“Can you tell the baby's gender?” Wes asks, and I giggle. His excitement is infectious and is only succeeding in causing me to want to jump his too sexy for his own good bones.
“Not yet. Give it another 3 to 4 weeks and then we should be able to get a more accurate image. That is, if the baby cooperates.” The woman laughs.
She goes on to check other things before sending me up to get a blood screening plasma test, which I’m not too sure what that’s exactly for. Within 20 minutes we’re walking out of the doctor with some ultrasound pictures in hand and a promise to call with the blood test results later the following week.
Weston doesn’t say a word as we walk to the car and I can’t bring myself to either. I’m still in a fog of shock, my lips unable to form any words. He opens my door and lifts me up into the front seat before walking around the front of the car and slipping into the driver’s seat.
Our glazed eyes meet each other and it’s like time stops. The next moments pass by as if in slow motion. Him pulling me near, burying his face into my brown locks, and me taking deep shallow breaths to keep myself from sobbing a waterfall. The moment I feel him shaking and sniffling, I know I’m done for.
Our tears and kisses mix together as we come to terms with our impending parenthood. When the doctor first told me I was pregnant, I was in hard core denial mode. While Weston was happy about it, I think it didn’t truly hit him until he heard our little one’s heartbeat.
The most beautiful noise in the world.