Coup De Grace

The baby was literally staring, too.

His head was in the sunny side up position, which meant the baby was coming into the world facing the sky rather than the ground like he was supposed to.

It also meant that it hurt a lot more.

Which the woman that’d been birthing the boy was letting us know with her eloquent play on words.

I’d lifted my arms just in time to catch the boy as the woman had given one valiant push.

The baby slid from the mother’s birth canal into my outstretched hands, and there’d been no looking back since.

“Okay, you can step down,” the woman said. “Sit here, please.”

After checking my blood pressure, and filling the dreaded plastic cup, she showed me to a room.

“I’m sure you know by now what this little gem is!” She said, holding up a Doppler.

I nodded, sat down, and lifted my shirt. “Sure do. Have at it.”

“You said you were twelve weeks, so that should be more than enough time for her to develop and allow us to hear the heartbeat.”

I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the Doppler at work, amazed at how different it was from this end.

“Ahh,” the woman said. “There it is.”

I smiled, and tears filled my eyes, as I listened to mine and Michael’s baby for the very first time.

And I fell in love.

Hopelessly devoted to this little life inside of me.

“One forty two. Perfect perfect!” She said. “Alright, my dear. My name’s Dalia if you need anything. The doctor should be in with you in about ten to fifteen minutes,” Dalia explained as she headed to the room’s door, and then closed it quietly behind her.

Well, at least I didn’t have to sit here naked while I waited.

This visit was late.

Most women usually went in when they were four to six weeks pregnant.

Seeing as I was twelve, I wouldn’t have to have the normal vaginal ultrasound. I could have the one that would run over the outside of my belly.

Which also meant I wouldn’t have to get naked.

I busied myself with a magazine on birthing a child, all the while I tried to tell myself to calm down and not freak out.

Freaking out had been a major part of my life as of late.

How did I tell Michael?

Would he be okay with it?

Would he ask me to abort it?

I knew one thing, though, and that was that this baby was mine, and I loved it already.

And if I had to give up my relationship with Michael because he couldn’t see past his fears, then I’d do it.

It’d be hard as hell, but I’d do it.

And I planned on telling him tonight after we had dinner with our families.

Maybe I’d pour a few drinks into him, too.

Maybe that would help him stay calm and help him realize that having a child wasn’t the end of the world.

The door to the room clicked open, and I looked up into the eyes of an older man in his mid to late sixties.

“Hello,” Doctor Jones said, offering his hand. “I’m Doctor Jones. It’s nice to meet you.”

I smiled at him and offered him my hand, too.

The moment my hand touched his, I felt a little zing of discomfort pulse down my arm, but I hid it with a smile. “Nice to meet you, too.”

He took a seat on that little rolling chair, and I was never more thankful that I wasn’t naked than right at this moment.

Because if this man would’ve been doing stuff between my legs, I might very well have screamed.

There wasn’t anything that I could put my finger on that made me so nervous and uncomfortable.

He was normal looking for the most part.

He did have a slight bald spot at the very top of his head, and he had too much of a leer in his smile.

But other than that, he was a normal man for that age.

There was nothing that truly stuck out about him, but I knew I wouldn’t be coming back to this doctor if I could help it.

The way this practice worked, though, was that I had to see all of the doctors in case of the event that my primary OB/GYN was busy with another patient or out of town.

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