I press my lips into a tight line and shake my head. The doctor sighs as though my lack of attention to my healthcare is appalling, and honestly, he’d be right. But where I’m from, you're lucky just to have an obstetrician on call when you happen to walk through the doors with a baby falling out of your cooch. Otherwise, it’s up to the ER doctors, and you just have to hope that they know what they’re doing.
“Alright,” he tells me. “I’ll have a list of the best obstetricians in the area put together. Is there anything else I can do for you?” he questions, looking at me though I know the question is open for Colton as well.
“No, thank you,” I tell him, nodding and watching as he excuses himself from the room, leaving us all nervously lost in our own thoughts.
I nearly lost the baby today, and for some reason, I can't find it within myself to be hurt about it. That must make me a monster. This is my child, my flesh and blood but at the same time, it’s also Jude’s, and that makes me resent this child. How will I have this baby and not see Jude in his or her eyes? How will I not always wonder if it’ll turn out just like its father?
Is losing this baby really such a bad thing?
Fuck. I should hate myself for even having that thought. This child is innocent. It can’t help who its father is, and it seems that I’m no better to have as a mother. If I was to have this baby, I'll fail it. There’s no doubt in my mind. How could I be what a baby needs? There are much better parents out there, not me.
The room remains silent until a chirpy blonde comes striding through the door, pushing a big machine. She gives me a warm smile. “Good evening, Ocean. Are you ready to see your baby?”
Fear settles through me. It was a shock seeing it the first time, but seeing it again, now knowing that it’s Jude’s … yeah, I don’t think I’m ready for that, but I really don’t think I have a choice.
She shuffles in beside my bed, and Mom moves around her to remain as close as possible. She begins setting it up and looks over me with a sad smile. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” she tells me before reaching over and gently peeling my blankets down. “Now, I’m going to have to lift your gown,” she says, warning me, in case I need to send Colton or Mom out, but there’s no way in hell. “Due to your state, it would be too risky to do an internal ultrasound, so we’re going to have to settle for the good old kind and hope bub is strong enough to hear.”
My brows furrow, not really understanding anything that’s going on as she raises my gown over my stomach. It’s still as flat as a pancake, but it sure looks different. My whole abdomen is covered in deep bruising, and it’s a miracle that I don’t have any broken ribs or internal bleeding. “Holy shit,” Mom breathes at the state of my purple and blue skin, taking it all in while Colton looks like he wants to run out of here and beat the living shit out of the Wolves who have claimed the waiting room.
“Okay, this might be cold,” the sonographer tells me before squeezing a clear gel onto my stomach. She presses the wand against my abdomen and cringes as she meets my eye. “I’m sorry, love. I'm going to have to press down. It may be a little uncomfortable.”
I nod, holding onto Colton’s hand a little bit tighter, and as the soft, rhythmic drumming of a heartbeat fills the room, all eyes turn toward the screen. “Ahh, there he is.”
“He?” my mom asks, her eyes lifting to the chirpy blonde.
The sonographer shakes her head. “Sorry, I tend to refer to them all as ‘he’ out of habit. It’s still a little too early to determine the baby’s sex.” Mom nods as the sonographer focuses back on the screen. Her brows furrow, and after a short moment, she looks back at me. “How far along were you?”
“Umm … I’m at eight weeks now.”
“Hmm,” she says, glancing back at the monitor. “I’m sorry, but I do this every day, and you’re looking a little small for eight weeks. Do you mind if I take a few measurements?”
Colton straightens out beside me, his hand tightening in mine as the wheels begin to spin in all of our minds. “Are you sure?” I question. “The doctor in Breakers Flats assured me that I was seven weeks when I got checked last Friday.”
She shrugs her shoulders and gives me a gentle smile. “Well it couldn’t hurt to double-check now, can it?”