Page 85 of Pain in the Axe
“And that thing looks like it’s made by Fisher Price,” Gus groused, nodding at the contraption.
My throat went tight, making it hard to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. God, what if something was wrong? My hands were shaking, and I could barely form words. I was forty. Ancient. And God, how much wine have I had over the years? Not to mention the lack of sleep and healthy food. I’d treated my body terribly. Of course it was failing at its most important job yet. Excellent, I was already failing at motherhood.
Gus put his hand on my shoulder. “What do we do next, doc?” he asked, his voice thick.
“We can either wait until your scheduled ten-week ultrasound, or I can see if the tech is free now to check.”
“Yes. Now,” I demanded.
Silently nodding in agreement, Gus squeezed my shoulder.
“Okay,” she said, setting the doppler on the counter. “Just give me a moment.” With that, she stepped out into the hall.
Tears stung my eyes as I attempted to breathe, still lying back with my shirt pulled up over my stomach.
Pulling me close, Gus kissed the top of my head. “It’s gonna be okay.”
I sniffled, clinging to his flannel shirt. “What if—”
“Shh.” He kissed my head again, the gesture soothing me more than I’d like. “Listen to me,” he said in a low, strong voice. “This is an exciting day. We get to meet our baby a few weeks early. I can’t wait to see if he or she already knows how to scowl. Or has a head of red hair.”
I swatted at his arm. “An eight-week fetus does not have hair.”
“Our child will be exceptional,” he said, hugging me tight. “Just you wait and see.”
After what felt like an hour later, we were led to an ultrasound room. My legs shook as the tech gave me what looked like a roll of paper towels and told me to strip from the waist down.
Holding it up in front of me, I eyed Gus.
“You want me to leave?” he asked, heading for the door.
I shook my head. He’d seen it all before. Who cared if he saw the cellulite on my ass? I was beyond vanity. I needed to see this baby now.
When the tech returned, she sat at my side. “Okay. We need to do this vaginally.”
She held up a massive wand covered in jelly.
Jesus, way to jump into the deep end.
“Hold still, Ms. LeBlanc, and take a deep breath.”
Gus was on his feet, holding my hand, the connection feeling too damn right. Thank God he was here.
What a bitch I’d been, not telling him about the appointment. What was I trying to prove?
While we waited for her to get things going, I was flooded with shame. He wanted to be here, and I had absolutely no right to keep him away. And there’s no way I’d have been able to manage this alone.
I’d held a grudge for twenty years, and even if my heart never healed, this child did not deserve to be born into that.
As hard as it would be, I had thirty-two weeks to figure out how to forgive him. I was determined to do it, for the sake of our child.
The black and white screen was a mess of shadows and lines, making it hard to orient myself.
“Here we are,” the tech said.
There, on the screen, was a tiny bean. Our baby.
“Oh my God.” I was crying again, the tears coming fast, but this time for a totally different reason.
