“How can one baby, one that’s not even close to being born yet, require so much paperwork?” Lara signs one form before passing it to me.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Dr. Henson murmurs from the other side of the room where she’s reviewing the results of Lara’s blood test. “In addition to the liability forms, the other papers are to get the ball rolling on your child’s birth certificate. Filling those out now means there’s one less thing to handle when it’s born.”

I swallow the instinctive urge to chuckle at the expression on Lara’s face.

“I’m not ready to think about the whole birthing thing,” she whispers.

Since meeting Dr. Henson, who quickly started running tests, Lara has steadily relaxed. I think she’s still too pale and too thin, and I’m concerned about how sick she told the doctor she’s been during the past few weeks, but she looks more like her normal self.

Even better, her sense of humor, one of the things I most like about her, has returned.

“Okay, Lara, would you mind hopping back up on the table?” Dr. Henson says. “And you can get your first look at your baby.”

Lara’s head snaps around. “Really? But I’m barely pregnant. I thought it took a while before the ultrasound shows anything. My cousin was something like halfway through before she started showing everyone the pictures of her big-headed baby.”

“Most places usually take an ultrasound picture at around sixteen weeks, but because you’ve been so sick and your iron levels are really low, which has a great deal to do with why you’re so tired, I want to check everything out and make sure there’s not a serious underlying cause.”

Lara pales and the bottom drops out of my stomach. I only just learned she’s pregnant; I still haven’t fully come to terms with that. If there’s something seriously wrong with her or the baby … My imagination shuts down, unable to cope with that idea.

Ignoring the last few forms I’m supposed to sign, I jump to my feet and hurry to stand beside Lara.

“Do you think something is wrong with the baby?” Lara asks, her voice shaking slightly.

“At this point, I have no reason to suspect there’s a problem. This is just a precaution.”

“And if there is?” I ask. Lara reaches up and catches hold of my hand. I give hers a squeeze before lacing our fingers together.

“Eight weeks is a special time,” Dr. Henson explains as she rolls up the bottom of Lara’s sweatshirt, exposing her stomach. “Your baby is moving from what we call the embryonic stage into the fetal stage.”

“I don’t have any idea what that means,” Lara says.

“Instead of just being a collection of cells,” I tell her while Dr. Henson covers her belly with a clear gel, “the cells have specialized and all the parts needed to survive have formed.”

Dr. Henson flashes a smile my way. “Very good. Nice to know some people really do read all the literature I send with them.” She picks up the wand, placing one end on Lara’s stomach. “Lara, you’re in good hands with this guy. He really knows his stuff.”

“One of us has to,” Lara mutters as all three of us turn to look at the screen.

At first the only thing I see is shadows and strange looking gray lines, but after a second, shapes start to appear.

“That right there.” Dr. Henson uses her free hand to point to a pale blobby shape near the bottom edge of the screen. “That’s your baby.”

Lara props herself up on one elbow, shifting closer to the ultrasound machine’s screen. “It is? Are you sure? How can you tell?”

“This circle right here.” The doctor points to the biggest blob. “That’s its head. And the oval next to it is the torso. It’s not quite big enough to see the heartbeat yet, but I can tell you that your child has a nice strong heart and that everything looks wonderful.”

“And those little teeny tiny circles.” Lara’s voice drips awe. “Are those its …”

“Arms and legs.” Dr. Henson finishes the sentence for her.

“Paul,” Lara squeals, her hand tightening on mine. “Do you see that? It’s a whole baby. And so much better looking than my cousin’s big-headed kid.”

I drop a kiss on the top of her skull, inhaling the good clean scent of her shampoo. “Our baby is amazing.”

“I’ll print out a picture for you to take home. A lot of people like to share it on social media or hang it on the wall.” Dr. Henson hands Lara a cloth to wipe the gel from her stomach before picking up a pharmacy bag, which she hands to me.

“Lara, I’m sending you home with some pre-natal vitamins to get you through the next few weeks, as well as some pills to help with your nausea. If you need more, let me know. Here at Embrace we have our own pharmacy and a pharmacist on call. And not only can we make up your prescriptions right here, we’ll even deliver them to you.” Dr. Henson hesitates. “I didn’t ask. Do you live in North Carolina? Near Paul?”

“No, I live in Chicago, just a few blocks from here.” Lara tugs her sweatshirt in place and slides off the table. I put a hand on her shoulder, ready to steady her if she gets dizzy. “I own the Blind Pig.”

“You do!” Dr. Henson’s expression brightens. “I love that place. If you need anything, definitely let me know and I’ll drop it off myself after my shift here ends.”

“If you do, let me know and I’ll set you up with a free drink.”

“It’s a deal,” Dr. Henson says. Her tone gives the impression that it’s the best idea she’s heard all day. “And Lara. Even though there’s nothing wrong with you or the baby, I’m worried about how tired you are. I want you to take a few days off and rest. I’m not restricting you to bed rest, but I do want you to pamper yourself and give your body some time to adjust. Otherwise, if things don’t change, I very well may have to impose more restrictions as your pregnancy advances.”