“If you want to make yourself comfortable on the bed, the doctor will be in soon.”
Left alone, I feel like someone else has taken over my body. As though I’m floating above the room and watching someone else carefully place her purse onto the chair beside the bed. Watching someone else climb onto the bed and lay down, her long fingers fidgeting with the buttons on her blouse. Shaking my head, I try to clear the feeling from my brain and close my eyes. If I can’t get control, the thoughts running through my mind are going to cause me to panic. Lucien should be here. He promised he would be and he isn’t. I really need to remember my cell when I leave home so I can call him, or maybe check to see if he’s tried to get in touch with me. What if something has happened to him? Leaving my cell at home isn’t something new—it’s a habit that I need to break.
“Hello Sabrina,” my OB, India Simone says, walking into the room, bringing me back to earth. “How have you been? The morning sickness started to subside?”
“I haven’t suffered for over a week now.”
She nods at my response.
“I had a message that you’d been admitted into hospital for a night after collapsing at the park. What happened?”
She sits beside me and waits.
“I wasn’t in a good place, and I guess I forgot to eat now and again, but I’m alright now. I’ve moved in with the father of my child and he’s been making sure I’m getting small meals throughout the day.”
“Good, it sounds like you need someone helping you. Is he going to be joining us today?” she asks and I have to fight back tears.
“He was supposed to be. I don’t know where he is. He promised me, and breaking his promise isn’t something Lucien would do. I just don’t know.”
“Well, how about we record the scan so you can take the DVD home with you and let him watch.”
I nod my head, not trusting my voice.
The doctor pushes my tee shirt up to my ribs and pulls my yoga pants down around my hips with my help before she settles me back down. With paper towels shoved into the top of my yoga pants, she warns, “This is going to be cold,” as she squirts some liquid onto my stomach.
“Okay, you ready to see your baby?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
I’m excited, but Lucien not being here with me has kind of taken some of the enjoyment out of this first time because I was excited to share it with him.
Then the door opens.
I turn and feel my eyes fill with tears of relief when he appears.
“God, I’m sorry I’m so late. Have I missed it?” he asks in a gush, sounding panicked.
“No. I take it you’re the missing father? You’ll be happy to know I’m just about to start.”
“Thank God.”
He seems to sag in relief before he quickly comes and stands at the side of me. I notice that he’s dishevelled, looking majorly hot and bothered with his hair half plastered to his head.
“What happened to you?”
“There was an accident a few blocks away, and I was stuck between two intersections so I couldn’t turn or use a different route. I tried ringing you, but you never answered. It kept going to voicemail. God, Sabrina,” he drops into the chair Crystal shoves behind him, “I thought I wouldn’t get here. I thought I would miss…”
“Shush. You’re here with me now and you haven’t missed anything…and I wasn’t ignoring you, I left my cell in the bedroom.”
Seeing how much he’s trying to hide his distress at being late is endearing and makes me want to wrap him up in my arms. It’s times like these that my heart wishes nothing will ever change, but I guess I know better. Part of me expects him to go back to how he was before I told him I was pregnant, and then he will push me away again. I’m not expecting him to change overnight, and I know it’s going to take time, which is why I’m finding it difficult to trust him to always be here for me with how he’s been in the past. But he’s here with me now…
“If you’re both ready.”
I meet Lucien’s eyes and smile.
He takes my hand and says, “We’re ready,” without breaking our contact.
Hearing the beep of the machine, we turn and see the grainy image of our baby at twelve weeks old. This has just become real. I’m not really listening as the doctor is explaining vital parts to us because all I’m thinking about is seeing Lucien holding our son or daughter. I want that so badly that I don’t realize I have tears pouring down my face until I feel Lucien mopping me up with a tissue.
“Baby, stop. I can’t keep up.”
I finally have a clear view of my handsome guy hovering over me and he’s looking slightly damp around the edges.
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I smile to reassure him, turning back to the monitor to watch our baby as Lucien takes hold of my hand. I can’t even string any questions together that I’ve wanted to ask. They’ve flown the coup.
Luckily, Lucien’s brain seems to still be working and he asks one of his own.