Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Navarro. Thank you for seeing me today.”
“Of course. Andrew is a good friend. Happy to help.” It takes me a moment to connect the name Andrew to Atlas. I don’t think I’ve heard it since Atlas first introduced himself to me.
During our small talk, Dr. Navarro assesses me in a way that reminds me of Viper’s thorough visual scans. Despite some weariness in her eyes, she’s clearly sharp. Her nearly black hair is streaked with gray and pulled back in a neat twist. There’s an old scar near her temple.
She perches on a stool and flips her computer open. “Andrew said you’d need discretion. I spent ten years patching people up in places that don’t officially exist, so I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
My shoulders relax. “Thank you.”
One side of her mouth lifts in a brief but comforting smile before she starts tapping away on the keyboard. “Do you know how far along you are?” Her eyes drop to the spot where my hands are folded in my lap as I sit on the exam table.
“Almost five months.” I tell her the due date that my old doctor worked out.
“What’s your pregnancy been like? Any symptoms?”
“I was exhausted the first couple of months, then had some nausea, but no vomiting. Lately, I’ve had more energy, and my appetite’s been growing.”
“Any bleeding, pain, fever?”
I shake my head. “No, none of that.”
“Good. Are you taking vitamins?”
I wince. “I was. I started taking them as soon as I found out I was pregnant. But I haven’t had any in the past few weeks.”
She stops typing and looks up at me. “Is there an issue with access?”
You could drive a truck as big as Atlas’s through the space between that question and all the things she’s not asking.
“I had to leave in a hurry,” I say, and I feel guilty because I could have asked Atlas to get a multivitamin for me if I’d thought about it.
She resumes her note-taking. “We’ll get you set up today.”
After a few more questions, she puts the laptop aside, checks my blood pressure, and records my weight, telling me everything looks fine. “Ready to see the baby?”
“Oh! I didn’t realize you’d be doing that.”
“It’s time. Did you have an ultrasound earlier in your pregnancy?”
I smile at the memory. “I did. The baby looked like a little bean.”
“You’ll find there’s been quite a bit of development since then. I’ll be right back.” Dr. Navarro leaves the room and returns a minute later, wheeling in an ultrasound machine on a cart. “We don’t do any fancy 3D stuff here, but we should be able to find out the baby’s sex if they’re not being shy.”
She smears cool gel on my belly, and I hold my breath as she starts to move a wand through the gel. Then the room fills with a beautiful sound.
Thump-thump thump-thump.
“Heartbeat’s excellent.” Dr. Navarro gives me a smile before turning her attention to the monitor.
Fuzzy shades of gray swim into view, and it looks like a weather radar map at first, but then the picture begins to take shape. My baby.
The head is in perfect profile, a tiny nose, forehead, mouth, chin.
Dr. Navarro applies gentle pressure and moves the device around as she points out less obvious body parts. “Spine, arm, legs.”
I have to use my imagination to see some of what she labels, but the face is unmistakable. My baby’s beautiful little face.
The doctor takes some measurements and checks different views as I stare at the screen, mesmerized.
“Would you like to know the sex of the baby?” she asks.
“Yes. Please.”
She angles the wand, viewing the baby from a different perspective. “Unless she’s very modest, that’s a girl.”
A girl.
Suddenly, the hopes I have for my child become that much clearer. A daughter.
I’m lost in a flurry of thoughts during the rest of the scan. When the doctor’s done, she hands me a printout of the sonogram. The image is small, black and white, and printed on thin paper, but it’s everything. It’s my world. My daughter.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Navarro says. “She looks healthy, and so do you.”
“Thank you.” I can’t quite peel my eyes away from the picture to look the doctor in the face.
She gives me advice on nutrition, water, and exercise, and I try to focus, but my head is in the clouds.
“Let’s talk about stress,” she says. “You can’t get rid of it, but you can manage it. Anything that signals to your body that you’re safe helps your baby. Routines. Sleep. Support.”
The three men I live with are big on routine. Mealtimes are as consistent as the sun. I usually know exactly where I can find each of them depending on the time of day. I think about Atlas and his briefings, the way Grizz has of hovering nearby in case I need him, and Viper’s silent watchfulness.