Page 45 of The Lookback

Still, she doesn’t tell me it’s some kind of sign. She doesn’t tell me I’m wicked. She doesn’t tell me that this baby is a miracle, and that I’d be a devil if I end its life. “I am worried about you, though,” she says. “We’re at a hospital. While we wait, at least get checked out.”

“Fine.”

So I let my little sister, the person I’ve always tried to look after, shepherd me into the waiting room, and then I sit while she goes and argues with some nurse until we’re given a room.

“How’s Donna?” I hear her asking the large, black nurse who just showed us into a small space and turned to leave. “Is she alright? Is the baby doing okay?”

“They think their baby boy may have a broken arm,” the nurse says, “but Miss Earl’s alright, and bones at that age heal quick.”

“Thanks.” Abby’s smiling when she turns back.

“You’re happy he has a broken arm?”

“I’m happy he was born, and other than that, that he’s healthy. Babies recover in weeks at this age. They’ll splint it or something, and he’ll be alright.” She nods. “Yes, I’m happy.”

“I do not understand the joy you get from these babies. The world is full of babies. We don’t all need to have our own.”

Abby doesn’t argue.

But a moment later, when the tall doctor in dark blue scrubs comes into the room, she stands up and takes charge. “My sister Helen is forty-four, and she’s gotten a blood test that says she’s pregnant, but she has a Mirena. We need an ultrasound to make sure it’s not ectopic.”

“Hey Abby,” the doctor says. “Good to see you again. How’s little Nate?”

“He’s fine.” Abby’s face softens a little. “But I want to make sure Helen’s alright.”

When the doctor turns toward me, I recognize her. I met her several times while Abby was pregnant. I should have expected that she and Donna would have the same doctors. “I thought you were down in Vernal.”

The doctor shrugs. “In this area, we have to take turns covering the hospitals with labor and delivery. I’m actually taking call for Doctor Fleemen right now, and right before your friend Donna came in, I delivered a set of twins. It’s been a busy day over here.”

“Can you do the ultrasound?” Abby’s polite, but she doesn’t let things go.

As it happens, a nurse is rolling a cart into the room at that very moment, and I recognize the machine it’s carrying as an ultrasound. “The quickest way to check for pregnancy is a trans-vaginal ultrasound,” the doctor says. “If we see the baby right where it should be, then we don’t have to go hunting elsewhere. I’ll also look around for that Mirena.”

She’s going tolook aroundfor it? Like you’d hunt for your keys if you misplaced them? That doesn’t sound promising.

“How far along are you? Any guesses?” Her eyebrows rise, and I realize she’s talking to me now.

“I didn’t even know I was pregnant until a few hours ago.”

“Alright, well, we’ll see if we can get a decent guess on how far along you are as well.” She hands me a gown. As I walk to the bathroom to change, she pulls out the disturbing looking wand and starts to put a plastic sleeve over it.

Peachy.

As I change clothes, it occurs to me, and I feel a little bad about thinking this, but if itisectopic, I won’t have to feel guilty for terminating the pregnancy.

Trans-vaginal ultrasounds are just exactly what they sound like they’d be. They stick the ultrasound probe up into places it should not be, and they take photos of what it finds with buttons on their little machine. As it happens, this particular cart at least has heated gel, and the doctor seems to know what she’s doing. Definite perks if you’re ever subjected to this particular form of abuse.

After a moment of shifting and making small squeaky sounds, the doc says, “Oh, there you are.”

“The Mirena?” I crane my neck to try and see the machine’s monitor.

“No,” Abby says. “And if you don’t want to see your baby, you should keep your eyes down.”

“Down?” I turn again, and this time, I can see the corner of it. I shift a little more and it comes clear. The image on the monitor looks like a little otter stuffy, all rounded and bulbous. “Should it look like that? Why’s its head so big?”

The doctor turns the machine, and suddenly I can see it almost perfectly.

“How old is it? That’s not a tiny bean. It looks huge.”

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