Page 8 of Griffin
I look up, meeting the kind eyes of the local doctor.
“That’s me.” Heart thudding, I nod and stand.
“I’m Dr. Hamilton. Right this way.” He smiles, and I follow him down the hallway to his office, ignoring the anxious swirls in my stomach. I haven’t spent a lot of time in hospitals, so the strong smell of cleaning products isn’t helping my nausea.
“How can I help you today?” The local doctor appears charming as we take a seat, and he looks at me with kind eyes. Yet another good-looking man in what is fast becoming a town of them. They should rename this town Handsome instead of Whispers, because the men in this place are next level.
“Ahhh, well, I’m new in town…” I wring my hands together, my palms sweating.
“The bakery, right?” He grins, and I nod.
“That’s right. And… I thought it would be best to get a checkup. It’s been a few months.”
Prenatal care is something I take seriously. I always ensure I do my nightly reading to understand what my body is going through and how the baby is growing. I try to look at blogs and websites to get information without feeling overwhelmed about certain topics. Yet with everything that’s been happening in my life, I haven’t made it to a doctor to check on things in a little while. But I sleep, I eat all my vegetables, and I take my pregnancy vitamins. Plus, I feel the little one kicking almost every hour, so I know things are all okay.
He frowns, looking confused. “A checkup for what, exactly?”
“I’m due in about six weeks.”
At that, he blanches. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, I just didn’t even see it.” He looks down at my stomach, complete surprise on his face.
“I’ve been carrying small. It just started to pop.” I shrug because I have no other answer as to why I’m not showing unless I put it on full display.
Ever since I told my family, their unimpressed scowl burned into me, they were adamant that I didn’t flout the fact that I was with child out of wedlock, and my mother forbade me from wearing anything remotely fitted. So now, in my flowing dresses and baggy tops, it wasn’t even noticeable. I’m also a voluptuous woman naturally, so my curves do hide it well. But I know the little human is tucked in tight. My bruised organs are proof of that.
“Father?”
I shake my head. “Not in the picture.”
“Family support?”
Clearing my throat, I swallow hard. “None of that either.”
He nods. I don’t have to tell him. It’s like he already knows.
“Okay, well… with six weeks to go, it’s a good time to see how things are going. Do you have your medical files from your previous doctor?” He starts tapping on his computer, setting up my file, I’m assuming.
He looks at me briefly when I don’t respond, feeling uneasy, and I shake my head, but I offer no explanation. What is there to say? I grew up in a highly religious household that was part of a strict religious church. My parents told me I needed to give my baby to my sister and I wasn’t to see a medical professional again? I know not everyone in Williamstown went to our church, but sometimes it felt like that, since my world was made up entirely of other church members. All I could think about from that point onward was escaping and doing things on my own for the sake of myself and my baby.
“I see…” He grabs his blood pressure cuff and slides it on my arm. I feel the tightening and try to relax. “Blood pressure is fine. How have you been feeling?”
“Fine. I mean, it’s been a big few months, with the new business and moving to town, but aside from being tired and losing my sense of taste, I feel good.”
“Sense of taste?”
“Yeah, not ideal as a baker. Is it common?”
“Very. Caused by fluctuating hormones usually. What vitamins are you taking?”
I tell him the brand and watch him think it over.
“Here, swap them out for this one.” Reaching over, he grabs a bottle of pills from his cupboard. I look them over, familiar with the brand. They are the more expensive option.
“The ones you’re using do have a small side effect that will alter your sense of taste. This one has a slightly lower iron level, so you might find it helps.” Making some more notes on his computer, he continues. “I would like to do a thorough workup. Urine samples to test for proteins to ensure we have no issues with preeclampsia. We can do an ultrasound today to check the baby's heart and formation. Do a thorough check of everything. Do you have insurance?” His smile is genuine. Warm. But his question leaves me feeling sick.
