This is Monica’s first OB/GYN appointment since her positive pregnancy test.
Based on her last menstrual period, she’s ten weeks along, nearly eleven. Her stomach is still flat as a board and her boobs are huge. She’s wearing a hospital gown, but has nothing on from the waist down. I came with her to the examining room and offered to wait outside while she changed, but she insisted it was “no big deal.”
I turned away when she was undressing, but I couldn’t help but take a tiny peek. And then I wished I hadn’t. I never thought of Monica as particularly attractive, but she’s twenty-three years old, and her body is absolutely perfect. Not that mine is terrible or anything, but everything on her is so tight and… well, like I said, perfect.
“This is exciting,” Monica comments. “Yes,” I agree. “It is.”
She squeezes her white hands together. “They said on the phone we might be able to hear the baby’s heart today.”
The thought of it brings tears to my eyes. Yes, Sam and I almost had a baby before, but Janelle lived across the country and I never got to go to any appointments with her. I never got to experience anything like this.
Monica has been really wonderful, honestly. That night we drove her home was a little weird, but since then, she’s been so sweet. She updates me every day on how she’s feeling, she helped me brainstorm about baby names (all of which Sam promptly vetoed… what’s so wrong with Worthington?), and she offered to let me come to this appointment. I never would have asked, but I was thrilled by her offer. It’s your baby, Abby. You should be there.
I can’t believe I was being so petty about her sitting in the front seat in our car. Who cares about that? Maybe she was feeling nauseated and needed to be in front. That was probably it.
“By the way,” I say to Monica, “Sam and I want to have you over for dinner next week. Are you free on Wednesday evening?”
“I am.” She brightens. “That would be great. Thanks!”
“It’s our pleasure. You’re our hero, after all.”
She rests a hand gingerly on her abdomen. “Too bad Sam couldn’t make it to the appointment today.”
Okay, full disclosure: Monica invited me and Sam to the appointment today. And I told her I’d ask him if he wanted to come, but I didn’t end up doing it. I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to come. It would have been really awkward with both Sam and me here. This is just easier.
“Maybe he’ll come to the next appointment,” she says. “Maybe,” I say vaguely.
Or not.
Dr. Selena Wong came highly recommended, although it’s not like Monica needs a high risk OB/GYN like I would have if I had ever managed to get knocked up. But I still feel reassured when Dr. Wong enters the room with her broad smile and intelligent eyes. There’s an air about her that makes me trust her instantly.
“Hello.” She holds a hand out for Monica to shake. “I’m Dr. Wong.
You must be Monica Johnson.”
Monica nods and takes the doctor’s hand.
Dr. Wong then turns to me. “And you’re… Monica’s mother?”
Oh God. She did not just say that to me. Monica’s mother? Really? Yes, I’m thirteen years older than she is, but I’m not old enough to… well, I suppose technically I could be her mother. It’s not like we’re one year apart in age. But since people in this country don’t generally have babies at thirteen years old, this is highly insulting.
“Abby is going to adopt the baby,” Monica explains, because I’m too flustered to speak. “I’m serving as her surrogate for the pregnancy.”
“Oh.” Dr. Wong’s eyes widen. “Sorry… I thought I saw a family resemblance.”
“It’s fine,” I mumble. If she saw a family resemblance, couldn’t she have guessed “sister”?
Okay, I’m not going to obsess over this. “So is it Abby’s egg?” the doctor asks.
Monica shakes her head. “No, Abby’s eggs are no good. We’re using my eggs and her husband’s sperm.”
“Oh!” Dr. Wong gives me a strange look, which I probably deserve. Monica is essentially having a baby with my husband. It’s not like I would
have considered this if I weren’t so desperate to become a mother. “Well, that’s great.”
Dr. Wong proceeds to go through Monica’s medical history, which is fairly unremarkable. She’s barely had anything more than a cold in her life. Of course, I always thought I was perfectly healthy until I was unable to get pregnant.
After the questions, she does a pelvic exam, which I insist on stepping out for, even though Monica doesn’t seem to care. Then Dr. Wong comes out to bring me back into the room.
“We’re going to try to listen for the heartbeat with a Doppler,” she explains. “Monica thought you’d want to hear.”
My own heart is pounding in my chest. “Yes, that would be great.”
Monica has her pants on again so that she can lift her gown without revealing her nether regions. Her belly is completely flat. I had no idea it was possible to be nearly three months pregnant and have a belly that flat. I look more pregnant than she does.
Dr. Wong dabs gel on her Doppler probe and places it gingerly on Monica’s tummy. Monica shivers and giggles. “Cold!”
“Sorry about that.” Dr. Wong smiles at her. “Okay, now let’s see if we can find that heartbeat. Remember that it’s still on the early side, so I wouldn’t panic if we can’t hear it. We’ll do the transvaginal if that’s the case.”
But then Dr. Wong shifts the probe and we hear it:
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…
It’s really fast, but I’ve heard fetus’s hearts are faster than adult hearts. It sounds… well, it sounds normal to me, but what do I know? Actually, it sounds perfect.
That’s my baby’s heart.
“Perfect.” Dr. Wong smiles up at us. “One-hundred-eighty beats per minute, which is normal for ten weeks. It will slow down a bit in second trimester.”
I feel a lump in my throat and my eyes are tearing up. All of a sudden, I’m sorry I didn’t invite Sam to come along. I wish he could be here to hear this with me. Our baby.
Monica is gazing down at her belly, her mouth hanging open. “That’s incredible,” she breathes.
And then her eyes start to water. She swipes at them quickly, before the tears can fall, but she’s definitely on the verge of crying. Except why is she crying?
“Can we get a recording of this?” Monica asks.
She wants a recording of this? What the hell?
“Well, you can record it with your phone,” Dr. Wong says.
And she does. She gets out her cell phone and records the sound of the heartbeat for much longer than I feel is necessary. Like, a minute. A minute doesn’t sound very long, but after ten seconds, it’s a bit repetitive, isn’t it?
It makes me think of when she first got the positive pregnancy test, and how she wanted to save the pee stick. I wonder if she still has that stick. She wouldn’t really have saved it, would she?
“Are you planning to do the First Trimester Screen?” Dr. Wong asks, after the recording is (finally) finished. “That’s a blood test to look for signs of chromosomal abnormalities and an ultrasound to look at nuchal translucency, which is the fluid beneath the skin behind the baby’s neck. It’s pretty accurate in screening for birth defects. We could do it in a few weeks.”
“Oh.” Monica laughs. “Well, I’m only twenty-three. I’m sure the baby is fine. It’s not like we’re using Abby’s eggs.”
Gee, thanks.
“The risk is lower,” the doctor admits, “but not nil. I’d recommend the test. Plus you get to have an ultrasound, so you can see your baby.”
Monica’s eyes widen. At first, I think she’s going to ask me what I think, but instead, she blurts out, “Yeah, that sounds great.”
She should have asked me. I’m going to be the mother of this child. But I suppose she’s the one carrying the baby. Anyway, I’m not going to make a big thing of it. I do want her to get the screening test, so there’s no need to intervene. She’s doing exactly what I want her to do.
So why do I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach?
