At First Sight - Nicholas Sparks [93]
It’s been said that romance in the latter stages of pregnancy is impossible, but Jeremy learned how wrong that was. Though Lexie had reached the point in her pregnancy where making love was uncomfortable, they lay close together in bed, sharing memories of their respective childhoods. They talked for hours, laughing at some of the things they did and wincing at others, and when at last they turned out the lights, Jeremy found himself wishing the night would never end. In the darkness, he wrapped his arms around her, still amazed at the thought that he could do this forever; and just when he was beginning to doze off, he felt her gently move his hands to her belly. In the stillness, the baby was awake, moving and kicking, each sensation making him believe that all was right and would turn out well. When they finally fell asleep, he wanted nothing more than to spend another ten thousand evenings like the one they’d just shared.
The next morning, they ate breakfast in bed, feeding each other fruit and feeling like a honeymooning couple again. He must have kissed her a dozen times that morning. But on the drive home, they grew quiet, the spell of the past hours broken, both of them dreading whatever lay ahead.
The following week, knowing another seven days wouldn’t help, Jeremy called his editor again; again, his editor said there was no problem and that he understood the pressures Jeremy was facing. But an almost imperceptible edge of impatience in his voice reminded Jeremy that he couldn’t postpone the inevitable forever. That knowledge increased the pressure—and kept him awake for two nights—but it seemed inconsequential compared with the anxiety he and Lexie felt as they waited for their next ultrasound.
The room was the same, the machine was the same, the technician was the same, but somehow everything felt different. They weren’t here to learn how the baby was doing, they were here to learn if she was going to be deformed or die.
The gel was smoothed over Lexie’s tummy, and the hand piece was placed upon it. Both of them immediately heard the heartbeat: strong, fast, and steady. Lexie and Jeremy exhaled at the same time.
They’d learned by now what to look for, and Jeremy found his eyes drawn to the amniotic band and its proximity to the baby. He watched to see whether it had attached, could anticipate where the technician would move the hand piece next, knew exactly what the technician was thinking. He saw the shadows, forcing himself to keep quiet when he wanted to tell her to move the hand piece and then zeroing in when she did exactly that. He watched as the technician watched, knew what she was seeing, knew what she knew.
The baby was getting larger, the technician noted as if speaking to no one in particular, and she said the baby’s size made it difficult to read accurately. She continued to take her time, bringing up one image after the other. Jeremy knew what she would say, knew she would tell them the baby was okay, but the words she spoke were unexpected. The technician explained that the physician had asked her to go ahead and tell them if things were going well and that she felt comfortable in saying that the band hadn’t attached. Still, she wanted to get the doctor to make sure. She rose and went to get the physician. Jeremy and Lexie waited in the room for what seemed like forever. The doctor finally appeared, looking tense and tired; perhaps he’d delivered a baby the night before. But he was patient and methodical. After watching the technician, he ran his examination before agreeing with the technician’s conclusion.
“The baby is fine,” he said. “She’s doing well, better than I expected. But I’m pretty sure the band is getting slightly larger. It seems to be growing along with the baby, but I can’t be sure.