Doctor Starr says, pointing to something on the screen that looks almost like a buzzing mosquito. “That’s your baby’s very strong heartbeat.”
She does some measurements while I lay there in awe, staring at what Colin and I made together out of love. It’s hard to comprehend the tiny little being on the screen is growing inside of me. I didn’t even know that it was there thirty minutes ago, but I love him or her with everything in my soul.
Doctor Starr breaks into my love-fest. “Well, from the size and the heartbeat, I’d say that you’re about seven weeks along. So that would put your due date at,” she says turning a dial on a circular card, “around February 27.”
Panic overwhelms me. “Doctor Starr, I just got back from Cabo, and drank half a bottle of tequila in one night. I had a period, so I didn’t think I was pregnant,” I begin to explain. The feeling of plain terror is more intense than I’ve ever experienced before. What if my drinking has hurt our baby?
She cuts me off with a raised hand. “You and every other pregnant lady. It’s not ideal, but you’re fine. The baby’s obviously okay. Worry about how you’re going to tell Colin that he’s going to be a daddy.”
“But I don’t understand. I had a period. Like, I used tampons,” I start again. I can’t stop myself. I feel she needs all the facts.
“Some women still have a light period their first month of pregnancy. You saw your healthy baby, Caroline. You’re going to be a mom.” She smiles down at me while I lie on the table, feeling completely helpless.
I repeat it. “I’m going to be a mom.” Saying it out loud seems to make it more real. I repeat it again, feeling a smile that meets my eyes. “I’m going to be a mom.”
As I make my way out of Dr. Starr’s office, still numb from all that has transpired in the past few minutes, I notice the children’s boutique on the first floor of her building, and make a split second decision to enter into the world of everything baby. It’s hard to believe that the little bean growing inside of me will one day be wearing one of these newborn, footed sleepers. I choose a neutral color just so I can show Colin how small our baby will be. When I place my purchase on the counter, I spy a pair of Nike newborn-sized tennis shoes displayed by the cash register. A stroke of genius hits me, and I know exactly how I’m going tell Colin that he’s going to be a daddy. I almost squeal I’m so excited.
The lady checking me out has a kind, grandmotherly face. She smiles knowingly at me as she hands me my purchases and says, “Congratulations.” I can feel my perma-grin cracking my cheeks. This is a new kind of happiness that I’ve never experienced before. I’ll be able to add “mommy” to my list of titles.
On my way home, I send this baby’s daddy a text.
Me: When will you be home?
Colin: Whenever you need me. Feeling okay?
Me: Okay. Are you working out after your meetings?
Colin: Not sure.
Me: Do you mind running with me this evening?
Colin: Sure. I can probably think of other ways to work you out.
Me: Mind out of the gutter.
Colin: Never! Be home in an hour.
When I arrive home, the first order of business is to let Pancho out of his kennel. He’s been such a Destructicon, as Colin calls him, lately, that he must be kenneled when no one can watch him. Just last week, he chewed the handle off of Chef’s Coach leather messenger bag. That cost us eight-hundred dollars.
Pancho howls when he sees me head toward his kennel that we keep in the laundry room. I open the door and kneel down, bracing myself for his greeting kisses. He wiggles so much that it’s surprising his front half doesn’t separate from his back. I scratch behind his ears, and kiss his head.
“Guess what, big boy? Mommy has a secret for you. You’re the first to know. You’re going to be a big brother.”
It feels so good to say those words out loud. Pancho says congratulations by bathing
She does some measurements while I lay there in awe, staring at what Colin and I made together out of love. It’s hard to comprehend the tiny little being on the screen is growing inside of me. I didn’t even know that it was there thirty minutes ago, but I love him or her with everything in my soul.
Doctor Starr breaks into my love-fest. “Well, from the size and the heartbeat, I’d say that you’re about seven weeks along. So that would put your due date at,” she says turning a dial on a circular card, “around February 27.”
Panic overwhelms me. “Doctor Starr, I just got back from Cabo, and drank half a bottle of tequila in one night. I had a period, so I didn’t think I was pregnant,” I begin to explain. The feeling of plain terror is more intense than I’ve ever experienced before. What if my drinking has hurt our baby?
She cuts me off with a raised hand. “You and every other pregnant lady. It’s not ideal, but you’re fine. The baby’s obviously okay. Worry about how you’re going to tell Colin that he’s going to be a daddy.”
“But I don’t understand. I had a period. Like, I used tampons,” I start again. I can’t stop myself. I feel she needs all the facts.
“Some women still have a light period their first month of pregnancy. You saw your healthy baby, Caroline. You’re going to be a mom.” She smiles down at me while I lie on the table, feeling completely helpless.
I repeat it. “I’m going to be a mom.” Saying it out loud seems to make it more real. I repeat it again, feeling a smile that meets my eyes. “I’m going to be a mom.”
As I make my way out of Dr. Starr’s office, still numb from all that has transpired in the past few minutes, I notice the children’s boutique on the first floor of her building, and make a split second decision to enter into the world of everything baby. It’s hard to believe that the little bean growing inside of me will one day be wearing one of these newborn, footed sleepers. I choose a neutral color just so I can show Colin how small our baby will be. When I place my purchase on the counter, I spy a pair of Nike newborn-sized tennis shoes displayed by the cash register. A stroke of genius hits me, and I know exactly how I’m going tell Colin that he’s going to be a daddy. I almost squeal I’m so excited.
The lady checking me out has a kind, grandmotherly face. She smiles knowingly at me as she hands me my purchases and says, “Congratulations.” I can feel my perma-grin cracking my cheeks. This is a new kind of happiness that I’ve never experienced before. I’ll be able to add “mommy” to my list of titles.
On my way home, I send this baby’s daddy a text.
Me: When will you be home?
Colin: Whenever you need me. Feeling okay?
Me: Okay. Are you working out after your meetings?
Colin: Not sure.
Me: Do you mind running with me this evening?
Colin: Sure. I can probably think of other ways to work you out.
Me: Mind out of the gutter.
Colin: Never! Be home in an hour.
When I arrive home, the first order of business is to let Pancho out of his kennel. He’s been such a Destructicon, as Colin calls him, lately, that he must be kenneled when no one can watch him. Just last week, he chewed the handle off of Chef’s Coach leather messenger bag. That cost us eight-hundred dollars.
Pancho howls when he sees me head toward his kennel that we keep in the laundry room. I open the door and kneel down, bracing myself for his greeting kisses. He wiggles so much that it’s surprising his front half doesn’t separate from his back. I scratch behind his ears, and kiss his head.
“Guess what, big boy? Mommy has a secret for you. You’re the first to know. You’re going to be a big brother.”
It feels so good to say those words out loud. Pancho says congratulations by bathing
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