Thebreath in my lungs hitched as I climbed onto the table and laid back. The techsituated my feet in the stirrups, and then, just as she was about to lift thesheet and do whatever itwasshe was about to do, shestopped.
“Oh!Do you have someone in the waiting room? Do you want them in here with you?”
Ihadn't thought about it before, not as I'd entered the office or peed in thecup, but of course I thought about it now.
Thiswas my first appointment with the obstetrician, my first sonogram, and I wasalone.
Tearsstung my eyes as I shook my head. “No, I'm here by myself,” I told her. Shedidn't say anything in reply, but I thought I saw a flicker of sympathy passher eyes as she nodded and lifted the sheet.
“So,how do we do this--” I was cut off abruptly by the smooth glide of somethingbeing inserted and moved around, reaching parts of my body often left untouchedand reminding me of how long it had been since I'd gotten laid. And just as Iwas about to wonder if this was supposed to feel good, she smiled and pointedto the screen beside my head.
“Andthere's your baby.”
Myheart jittered as I turned to look, and there, in black and white, was a littleblob resembling a gummi bear. The tears were quick to spring to my eyes beforestreaming down my face as the little nubs on the gummi bear's body fluttered.
“It'swaving at you,” she said. More flutters on the screen and she laughed. “See?It's saying, 'Hi, Mom!'“
Mom.
Ilaughed around another sputtered burst of tears, grinning from ear to ear, as Iwhispered, “Hi, little bean.”
***
Insteadof looking out the window on the train that evening, I stared at the picture ofmy baby, while the afternoon replayed in my mind.
Afterthe sonogram, my OB/GYN, Doctor Albrecht, had given me a thorough and longoverdue examination. Then, she had sat down and told me ingreatdetailhow I was at an advanced maternal age.
“So,you're calling me old,” I had said.
Shewinced and replied, “We don't like to use words like geriatric or old, but ...”
“Butyou're calling me old.”
“I'mcalling you …mature,” she said with a pained smile.
Matureisreally justa nicer way of saying old, but Idecided not to push the argument further. Because I knew I was old. Sure, Iwasn't close to knocking on Heaven's door, and maybe I still looked and feltpretty goodfor thirty-five, but my biological clock wasticking slower these days and I knew it. I'd been acutely aware of it for awhile and had been almost fine with settling on never having kids at all. Butnow that I waspregnant, andhearing a doctor slap mewith a high-risk warning, simply due to my age, I felt downright archaic.
DoctorAlbrecht had explainedall ofthe risks and things tolook out for, while insisting everything looked perfect so far. Then, she askedif I'd like to run genetic testing on the fetus, to screen for potentialillnesses or disabilities and decide what to do with it. I already knew that Iliked her, and I knew she was only asking out of obligation, but I had stillwrapped my arms around my stomach in response, to protect the little beaninside of me. I told her that whatever was meant to happen would happen and Iwouldn't have any part in that decision.
Afterall, I hadn't decided to get pregnant in the first place, but here I was.
Asthe train pulled into the station, I could feel myself building withdetermination to make it through the pregnancy without a hitch and prove thatmy body and I were perfectly capable of carrying this kid. I could do this, andI was sure of it.
WhatI wasn't so sure of was, if it really came down to it, whether I could do itall alone.
***
Mostkids go through a phase in their lives where they hate their parents. They'reembarrassed by them and can't wait to move as far away as humanly possible.That was the case for every kid I knew growing up, and each one did move awayas soon as they were able to. However, that had never been the case for me. Iloved my parents and always had. Even as a hormonal teenager, I loved hangingout with them in our house on Long Island, whether we were watching a movie orplaying a board game.
Truthfully,if it hadn’t been for having a boyfriend in the city, I’m not sure I everwould’ve moved away.
So,that was the reason why, after seeing the doctor, I had decided that I couldn’twait an entire week to see my parents. I needed to go straight home, I neededto tell them, and I had to do it now. As I stepped out onto the platform andsaw my mom waiting in her car, I wished I’d never left home at all. If I stilllived with my parents, I'd have all the support I would need to get throughthis pregnancy and adjust to having a baby.
“What'swrong?” Mom asked, as I opened the back door and threw my backpack inside.
“Huh?”
Iclosed the door and got in through the front. Mom eyed me with pryingspeculation making me laugh uneasily, as the sonogram picture burned a holethrough my sweatshirt pocket.
