Page 19 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
Her husband squeezed her hand. “He’s science-ing, Georgie. That’s how he knows.”
“Yep, a whole lotta science,” the doctor replied, raising his fist and getting a little bump from her husband.
Were these two bro-ing out over science?
“We’re notbro-ingout. We’rescience-ingout,” Jordan replied.
She glanced between the men. “Did I just say what I was thinking out loud?”
“Many patients mention baby brain can put them in a bit of a fog. I suggest light exercise to stay regulated. For me, it’s tennis. I just won the men’s singles tournament at my country club. It keeps me sharp,” the shiny doctor added.
Georgie stared down at her abdomen. The man could have disclosed he’d won Wimbledon with one hand tied behind his back, and she wouldn’t have cared.
This was real. She was pregnant.
Not only was she pregnant—she was eight weeks pregnant. What she’d labeled as a little pineapple overload bloat in her belly turned out to be a little human living inside her for nearly two months. Her mind went to her trifecta, but they were of no help. Their fictional mouths hung open, none of them offering up even a lick of advice.
The doctor’s brow creased. “Who are Lizzy, Jane, and Hermione? And what are they supposed to lick?”
“Did I do it again?” she asked.
Jordan nodded with a bemused grin.
She had to stop this. Just because she was pregnant, it didn’t mean she had to lose her ever-lovin’ mind.
She snapped into librarian mode. “What happens now? Should I start taking prenatal vitamins? Should I refrain from horseback riding?”
“Georgie, when was the last time you rode a horse?” Jordan asked.
“Probably twenty years ago, but you never know when a horse could cross your path.”
It was a valid concern!
“And sex?” she asked.
“That’s a good question,” Jordan agreed.
“Yes, on those prenatal vitamins, hold off on the horses or any extreme sports, and yes to continued sexual activity. These pamphlets can guide you on pregnancy do’s and don’ts,” the doctor added as he plucked pastel booklet after pastel booklet and set them on the counter.
“Georgie, it’s real. We’re having a baby,” Jordan said with tears in his eyes.
Her mouth grew dry. Holy diaper pail! She was going to be a mother!
“Are you okay, babe?” her husband asked gently.
She stared at a smiling woman, cradling a baby on a petal-pink leaflet. Was she okay?
Was anyone okay when implanted with a human?
Was she supposed to feel like a mother now?
Would she be like her mother?
A shiver danced down her spine.
“It’s a lot to take in.”
“Like a gallon of pineapple juice?” her husband teased with a misty grin.
