Page 56 of Good For Me

I try not to allow myself to feel the sting of that as I quickly slip out of my jeans—which are already starting to feel too tight on the belly—and into the gown. I’m sitting on the exam table when there’s a knock on the door. “Come in.”

River enters, followed by a short, grey-haired woman in a white doctor’s coat. I do a double take when I notice the barbell in her eyebrow. And is that a lotus tattoo on her forearm?

“Miss Weaver,” she says in a completely normal voice—not at all like the Barbie squeak of the first woman. “I’m Dr. Wiezman. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I say, taking her hand when she offers it. She studies me for a brief moment, her gaze flicking over my face, and I get the impression she’s seeing far more than might be apparent to others.

“Your intake papers tell me you had the pregnancy confirmed at the Cedar Street Women’s Clinic? And you haven’t been to the doctor since?”

A wave of shame rises in me, my cheeks heating, even though there isn’t any judgment in her voice. How could she not be judging me, though? What kind of mother-to-be doesn’t even go to the doctor to check on her baby?

“No need to worry,” she says in that same, no-nonsense voice. “It’s not unheard of for women to not even know they’re pregnant until they’re a few months along.”

I force myself to meet her appraising gaze and I see a world of understanding in her eyes. She gives me a small smile. “And sometimes, particularly when the pregnancy was unplanned, it can all seem a bit overwhelming.”

I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “It definitely wasn’t planned,” I say in a shaking voice. “And overwhelmed is kind of an understatement.”

She nods. “Personally, I find that having a clear picture of things helps me when I’m overwhelmed. So it’s good that we’re here today. We can get you checked out and then talk about your options.”

I’ve never met her before, but if Rose Ransome was here right now, I might just kiss her. Dr. Wiezman is exactly what I needed without even knowing it. She begins the exam by asking me a shit ton of questions but it doesn’t feel as invasive as it might have. She’s very to the point and calmingly unemotional about the whole thing. She’s clearly deduced that this isn’t the happy mommy moment that it must be for other women. She doesn’t say a single word about my “little baby love bug” and she doesn’t refer to me as Momma or Mommy or anything like that. And I’m exceedingly grateful.

“Okay, let’s check you out,” she finally says, setting the tablet she used to take notes aside. “I’m going to put some cold gel on your belly—sorry—and then use this wand to check out the uterus. This ultrasound will help me determine a due date and make sure you and the fetus are both progressing and healthy.”

“Doesn’t sound quite so scary when you put it that way,” I say, and she smiles.

“It won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

River comes over to stand at my side. His eyes have gone a little wide, his face paler than it was when we came in. He’s nervous, I realize. A lot more nervous than I am at the moment.

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” I tell him drily as Dr. Wiezman gets set up.

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, but he doesn’t look it.

“If you puke, try not to do it on me.”

He startles a little, finally meeting my eyes. “I’m not going to puke. I’m just…I don’t know, Jas. We’re going to see ourbaby.”

Our baby. Those two words together,ourbaby—not the baby or my baby or even it, as I’ve sometimes called the fetus—hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting. Our baby. It all seems so much more real, all of a sudden.

And I’m not at all sure how I feel about that.

“There we are,” Dr. Wiezman murmurs, adjusting the wand on my belly. The little ultrasound screen, which had been full of static, suddenly shows a black blobby thing. And in the middle—

“Holy shit,” River mutters, sinking down onto the stool at my side. “Is that…?”

“Sure is,” the doctor says. She points at the screen, showing us details. “The head is right there. Arms and legs.” She continues, her voice fading to a dull drone in the background as I stare at the weird little image of the baby.

I feel…numb. Completely and totally numb. I keep waiting for some spark of…something. Excitement? Recognition? Love? But all I feel is cold and slightly ill.

I hear a sniff beside me, and look over to see River watching the screen with rapt attention. There are tears in his eyes. Literal tears. He’s looking at the baby like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen in his life. Meanwhile, I can’t even muster a single emotion.

So it’s official. I’m most definitely not mother material.

“Heart beat is strong,” the Doctor says, her voice breaking through the weird dull drone in my head. I realize her voice wasn’t the only thing I was blocking out. There’s a rapid pulsing sound filling the room.

“That’s the heartbeat?” I ask dumbly.

“It is. It sounds fast but that’s normal.”