The beginning of the new year moves quickly, and by the end of February, the baby is so big that I can no longer see my toes.

Which is why I probably didn’t notice how swollen my legs were until I waddled into my thirty-four week appointment with Theo at my side.

“Have a seat, I’ll check you in.” He holds my elbow until I settle the bowling ball that is me into the uncomfortable waiting room chair.

The minute he comes back, his arm is around my shoulders, and I rest my head into the crook of his neck. My head has been pounding all morning, and I feel so tired that I could sleep standing up like a cow or a horse. I’ve basically become a barnyard animal, I’m so unrecognizable.

The nurse calls us in and does the normal taking of the blood pressure, temperature and measuring of the belly with their special gestational tape measurer.

“I ought to get one of those for my toolkit,” Theo jokes as the nurse circles my bump.

“How are you feeling?” She smiles at my husband’s corny joke and studies me.

I struggle to sit back up, and she lends me a hand. “Massive. I feel massive.”

She chuckles. “That’s expected. I mean anything out of the ordinary? Any spotting, contractions?”

I shake my head. “None of those, but I have been getting some bad headaches.”

“And she threw up last night,” Theo adds, always the choir boy when it came to confessing to the doctor.

“But that was probably just something I ate,” I add hastily.

We’ve made it so far in this pregnancy, and we were at the finish line now. All I wanted was a normal, painful delivery, give me that epidural, and a healthy baby. I could cope with the end of pregnancy symptoms I’d been getting … Theo was just exaggerating.

The nurse eyes me skeptically. “Dr. Katz will be in in a few minutes.”

She leaves the room and I undress down to my underwear and throw the napkin-material gown over me.

“Why are all of the magazines in here from two thousand and six? Do they really recommend your baby sleeping on its stomach now, because I was reading that back is best?”

“No, honey, you heard that breast is best. You’re getting the euphemisms mixed up.”

Theo’s smile is wolfish. “Oh, baby, I know that breast is best. I’ve known that for years.”

I roll my eyes. “Do you think she’ll check to see if I’m dilating at all?”

“You’re asking me this?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’m thinking. Just scatterbrained these days. I swear, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.”

Yesterday, I’d left the door to the fridge open after grabbing a yogurt. The internal monitor started beeping furiously at me from where I sat in the living room, and I jumped up screaming to Theo that the fire alarm was going off for no reason. He had a good belly laugh when we discovered what had really happened.

I was so ready to have this bowling ball occupying my belly out in the world, not only because my skin felt like a balloon stretched to its maximum air capacity, but because I wanted so desperately to hold my daughter. I wanted to know what she was going to look like, and whose eyes and hair she’d have. I wanted to watch Theo rock with her in the glider in her nursery, preferably whilst shirtless. That was a fantasy I had often now.

A knock came on the door, and Dr. Katz came strolling in.

“Imogen, Theo, how are we feeling?”

We both said good at the same time and smiled, and she began to flip through my chart.

“Hmm, you told the nurse that you’d been having some headaches and nausea?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Bring your legs up for me?” She pulls the convertible table out so that I could lie down.

I stare at the ceiling and stay quiet, Theo gripping my hand, praying that she gives us the all clear and sends us home.

“Your legs are very swollen. It’s what we call edema, and its most likely a symptom of preeclampsia. We’ll want to get some bloodwork done to make sure, but I’m fairly certain.” Dr. Katz delivers this news like she won’t scare the bejesus out of us.

“What does that mean?” Theo’s voice is all worry.

“It’s a condition characterized by high blood pressure and can affect the liver and kidney function in an expectant mother. It limits blood flow to the placenta, and in the worst cases can cause seizures and organ damage.”

This is when the tears start. I’m overly hormonal as it is, but when my doctor begins talking organ damage, I kind of lose it.

They leak out the side of my eyes as Dr. Katz keeps poking at my legs and belly, and I swipe furiously at my cheeks while trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Oh, baby.” Theo bends down, cradling my head in his hands. “Shh, everything is okay.”

Dr. Katz looks up. “Oh, Imogen, okay, calm down. We want you as calm as possible. Take some deep breaths, let’s help her sit up.”

They hoist me up and raise the back of the table, and Theo goes to the small sink in the exam room to get me a wet paper towel. I take it from him, holding it to my forehead while Dr. Katz looks at my file again.

“Okay, let me lay out some facts. Typically, what we do with women diagnosed with preeclampsia is, well … we deliver. But since you’re only thirty-four weeks, I am not recommending that. Baby needs to bake a little longer so that’s not an option right now. Your blood pressure is on the border of needing medication, and considering your history, I really don’t want to prescribe you anything. So what I’m recommending is, trying to get you to thirty-seven weeks. Baby is measuring on course, and if you can make it three more weeks, with the help of bedrest and steroid shots, I fully believe you’ll deliver a healthy baby girl.”

Her tone was rational, and she wasn’t sending me to a specialist or telling me that this could have dire consequences … but I was still panicking. My thoughts were going to the worst-case scenarios, my hands were sweating, and I felt like I couldn’t inhale a deep breath.

Theo took over, asking the questions I couldn’t seem to form. “Bed rest? So she’ll need to be in bed, all the time?”

Dr. Katz nodded. “Yes, essentially. No physical activity. Not even walking up and down the stairs. You need to get under those covers, rent loads of movies, and stay put for three weeks. Eat a lot of healthy meals, keep your spirits up, and just … stay still.”

“The steroid shots, what will those help with?” My husband is typing away on his phone.

“They will help develop the baby’s lungs and speed up some of the growth of the internal systems that really, we’d like to see have that forty week period to develop, but in this case, we just don’t have.”

The baby’s lungs. I’d need shots to help my baby’s lungs grow, because my body was working against my pregnancy. I couldn’t take much more of this information.

I began to sit up, needing to get out of this exam room right now.

“Imogen, can you lie back down? I just want to check your dilation.” Dr. Katz does not sense my melt down.

I shake my head, ignoring her, and begin to get off the table. “I can’t do this.”

My mind is in shambles as my heart races, my hands fumbling for my clothes while Dr. Katz watches me, and Theo comes to my side.

“Baby, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to follow all of the directions and our little girl is going to come into the world safe and sound.”

My head was still shaking from side to side. “No, no. I’m not doing this. I won’t do it.”

“Imogen, you don’t have a choice. This is happening. We are going to give you the first round of steroids today, and then you’ll be on bedrest with appointments at the office twice a week.”

I ripped the gown off my body, no longer caring that I was stark naked, and began to pull my bra on.

“Baby, listen to the doctor …” Theo’s voice was reed thin, and I knew he was trying not to snap at me.

“Imogen, lie back down …” Dr. Katz started to walk toward me.

“No! No. I said I can’t do this. I’m not going to sit in bed day after day as my body kills my child. Not again, I can’t. I’m not strong enough for this …”

I trail off on a sob, and in the middle of the exam room, in nothing but my bra and underwear, I break down, bracing myself against the wall as my shoulders vibrate with anguish.

Theo pulls me into his arms immediately. “Baby, shh, please calm down. You can do this. You’ve already done it. You made it through all three trimesters of this pregnancy. This is the home stretch.”

I try to suck in lungfuls of breath, knowing that I need to be as calm as possible for the baby.

Dr. Katz clears her throat. “Imogen, you know that I am a doctor and try to stick strictly to the medicine. But just this once, I am going to tell you something.”

Both Theo and I turn to face her, the closeness of him giving me the smallest amount of comfort.

“I see pregnant women all day long. I talk to them, I deliver their babies. I listen to their symptoms and diagnose them. I’m telling you right now, you are one of the strongest patients I’ve ever had the pleasure of treating. With what you’ve been through … this baby is a miracle. We’re going to do everything in our power to get your little one here safe and sound.”

I blew out a breath after her encouragement and took a moment to collect myself.

“I’m scared.” My voice sounded so weak.

Theo kisses my temple. “So am I, but we’re going to get through this together.”

“Now, can you please let me examine your cervix?” Dr. Katz smiles wryly.

With a huff and a curse, said only inside my head, I waddled back onto the table. Theo’s hand stayed gripped in mine, and I felt stronger already.

I’d come this far. Whatever I needed to do for my daughter, I’d do it.