Page 57 of Good For Me

I nod, trying to focus on the sound, waiting for something, anything, to come to life inmyheart.

“How big is it?” River asks. “That’s not like, to scale, right?”

The doctor grins. “The fetus is about the size of an avocado right now.”

“So tiny,” he whispers, sounding awed. “What about the sex? Can you tell?”

“I have a pretty good idea, if you want to know.” They both look at me and I stare back, at a loss for what I’m supposed to say. “We can wait until the twenty-week scan for a more definitive answer. Or you can decide not to find out at all.”

“Um.” Their expectant gazes make my cheeks feel warm. They’re waiting for an answer, like this is something I should have already thought about. And I probably should have, right? Wouldn’t most normal women have given it thought?

“I don’t know,” I blurt out. “I…I want to wait. Let’s wait.”

The doctor nods. “You’ll have plenty of time to decide.”

I breathe in deeply, trying to calm myself. Why I’m getting so worked up over the sex is beyond me.

But it’s not just that, I admit to myself. It’severything. My total lack of discernable emotion beyond a vague sense of unease. The numbness. My inability to even decide if I want to raise the baby.

Doctor Wiezman says she needs to take some measurements so she goes about clicking away on her machine while River continues to stare in awe at the screen. And I just…lie there. Feeling nothing.

I’m relieved when the exam is finally over, but if I thought I was going to get out of here so easily, I was wrong. As soon as I’m cleaned up and sitting, the doctor tells me she’s going to send someone in to draw blood. And once I’m dressed, she’d like to see us in her office.

I cast a worried glance at River. Is she going to tell me something awful about the baby? She seemed completely unruffled while performing the ultrasound, but maybe they have a policy of not giving out horrible news while the woman is half-naked on an exam table.

What if there’s a problem? What if it’s something that could have been avoided if I’d gotten medical care earlier? The idea of having a baby is overwhelming enough but the idea of having a baby with problems, problems that I very well could have caused—I feel like I might pass out.

A different nurse comes to draw blood—she’s wearing perfectly normal light blue scrubs, thank God—and then River leaves again while I get dressed. I wish I would have asked him to stay. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely fasten my bra.

We’re directed to a small, neat office where we take seats in front of Doctor Wiezman’s desk. It’s completely silent while we wait for her. I cast surreptitious glances at River, wondering what he’s thinking. Wondering if he’s as nervous as I am.

It feels like an age before the doctor appears. She plants herself behind her desk and starts to type on her keyboard, presumably pulling up my file.

“Is something wrong?” I finally blurt out, my voice strangled.

She looks up in surprise. “Not at all. I like to sit down with my patients at their first visit. There’s a lot to go over and I find it easier for my patients to focus when they’re comfortable.”

I blow out a long breath. I need to get a freaking grip.

“First things first, the ultrasound looked good. Based on the size of the fetus, you’re about sixteen weeks along.” She glances at the chart. “Do you happen to know the conception date?”

“July 9th,” River says immediately, and I turn to gape at him. Why would he have that date memorized? “Your birthday,” he mutters, not meeting my eyes. He looks at Dr. Wiezman. “But that was only fourteen weeks ago?”

“We measure from the date of the last menstrual period,” she explains, pulling out a little cardboard wheel. She twists the sides around, then holds it out to show me the numbers on the side.

“I’m going to put your due date the first week of April.”

“Wow,” River murmurs, and for once I think we’re on the same page. A baby in April. This is starting to feel reallyreal.

“There are several things you should be doing to make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” she says. “Unfortunately, there are a few things you can’t eat for a while. Sushi, non-pasteurized cheese and lunch meat, excessive caffeine. Alcohol, obviously.”

“I drank the first month,” I say, feeling the now familiar guilt rise up. “Before I knew.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” she assures me. “Unless you were binge drinking every weekend…”

I shake my head. “A couple beers here and there.”

She nods. “No big deal. The caffeine thing is often the most difficult for women. About a cup a day is fine.”