monitors. "Everything is looking good for right now and from the way you're both glowing, I can tell that he's shared the good news."
A flash of excitement ricocheted through me. Our baby. I felt like talking would probably bring tears, so I just nodded, still clutching Jacob's news.
"Well, I'll jump right in and tell you what we've found out since you were admitted late last night." Her smile remained in her eyes, but her whole demeanor changed to the crisp, authoritative tone of a woman that had a job to do, and she took that job seriously. "We ran a variety of standard tests when you arrived to make sure we weren't missing something big. The fainting combined with the fall could be a sign of a concussion. We did find that you sustained a very mild concussion, so we’ve been watching you carefully. We also checked your blood sugar to rule out diabetes. Your glucose levels were elevated, so we're going to put you on some medicine to hopefully ward off gestational diabetes." She gripped her stethoscope. "You need to avoid stress and take it easy. I know with your lifestyle that's likely easier said than done, but stress is very bad for mom and baby."
My hand shot to my belly. "But the baby is okay?"
She reached out and patted my hand. Not in a patronizing way, but in a way that told me she got it. She must have had children because there was a embrace in her touch that told me that it was okay to exhale.
"Your baby is fine and growing as expected. You're about eight weeks along and we have a transvaginal ultrasound scheduled for later this afternoon-"
"Can we do it now?" I smiled as big as I could, knowing it was a long shot, but wanting to see that our baby was okay with my own two eyes. Preferably as soon as possible.
Dr. French shifted her gaze from me to Jacob, then back to me. "Generally, we'd only move up that procedure if there were concerns." The smile returned to her lips. "But I remember my first little one. And there's nothing like laying your eyes on your baby yourself."
She moved to the table in the corner where the phone was sitting. Jacob and I said a silent prayer together while she talked for a few moments. When she came back over, her expression told us she had good news.
"We can get you seen right now." She scanned down to my feet, then back up. "How are you feeling? I could have a wheelchair wrangled so we could get you down to the maternity wing."
Before she'd even gotten out her sentence, I'd thrown back the covers and kicked my legs off the edge. Even though I had it, barely wobbling when I stood on my feet, Jacob was right beside me, steadying me.
Dr. French beamed at both of us. "Well, then. Let's go meet your baby."
I didn't know if it was a mix of the medicine I was on or sheer excitement, but I was in a daze as we took the elevator up to the maternity wing and followed the doctor to the ultrasound room. She wished us luck and told us she was leaving us in the ultrasound technician’s capable hands, and would stop in later to check on me.
The tech was clearly a fan of PR from the way she squealed when she saw us, but she stepped back into professionalism mode almost immediately, making me feel at home and safe when she situated me on the table. She pulled out the probe and I made a joke about dinner first that brought clipped laughter from Jacob. I could tell he was just as nervous as I was.
We turned toward the screen and the tech explained what we were looking at.
Then I saw it.
The flicker.
Our baby's heartbeat.
Chapter Twelve
"P ersonally, I think the name Cheryl would be perfect. No other name would do if you're having a little girl."
I scooped a spoonful of broccoli and cheese soup in my mouth, then took a bite of the whole wheat bun. If my mouth was full, a response wouldn't be required.
Megan stepped up to the plate, throwing her hat in the ring. At least she was turning the Name Game into something that wasn't quite so cutthroat. "Not to toot my own horn, but Megan is
A flash of excitement ricocheted through me. Our baby. I felt like talking would probably bring tears, so I just nodded, still clutching Jacob's news.
"Well, I'll jump right in and tell you what we've found out since you were admitted late last night." Her smile remained in her eyes, but her whole demeanor changed to the crisp, authoritative tone of a woman that had a job to do, and she took that job seriously. "We ran a variety of standard tests when you arrived to make sure we weren't missing something big. The fainting combined with the fall could be a sign of a concussion. We did find that you sustained a very mild concussion, so we’ve been watching you carefully. We also checked your blood sugar to rule out diabetes. Your glucose levels were elevated, so we're going to put you on some medicine to hopefully ward off gestational diabetes." She gripped her stethoscope. "You need to avoid stress and take it easy. I know with your lifestyle that's likely easier said than done, but stress is very bad for mom and baby."
My hand shot to my belly. "But the baby is okay?"
She reached out and patted my hand. Not in a patronizing way, but in a way that told me she got it. She must have had children because there was a embrace in her touch that told me that it was okay to exhale.
"Your baby is fine and growing as expected. You're about eight weeks along and we have a transvaginal ultrasound scheduled for later this afternoon-"
"Can we do it now?" I smiled as big as I could, knowing it was a long shot, but wanting to see that our baby was okay with my own two eyes. Preferably as soon as possible.
Dr. French shifted her gaze from me to Jacob, then back to me. "Generally, we'd only move up that procedure if there were concerns." The smile returned to her lips. "But I remember my first little one. And there's nothing like laying your eyes on your baby yourself."
She moved to the table in the corner where the phone was sitting. Jacob and I said a silent prayer together while she talked for a few moments. When she came back over, her expression told us she had good news.
"We can get you seen right now." She scanned down to my feet, then back up. "How are you feeling? I could have a wheelchair wrangled so we could get you down to the maternity wing."
Before she'd even gotten out her sentence, I'd thrown back the covers and kicked my legs off the edge. Even though I had it, barely wobbling when I stood on my feet, Jacob was right beside me, steadying me.
Dr. French beamed at both of us. "Well, then. Let's go meet your baby."
I didn't know if it was a mix of the medicine I was on or sheer excitement, but I was in a daze as we took the elevator up to the maternity wing and followed the doctor to the ultrasound room. She wished us luck and told us she was leaving us in the ultrasound technician’s capable hands, and would stop in later to check on me.
The tech was clearly a fan of PR from the way she squealed when she saw us, but she stepped back into professionalism mode almost immediately, making me feel at home and safe when she situated me on the table. She pulled out the probe and I made a joke about dinner first that brought clipped laughter from Jacob. I could tell he was just as nervous as I was.
We turned toward the screen and the tech explained what we were looking at.
Then I saw it.
The flicker.
Our baby's heartbeat.
Chapter Twelve
"P ersonally, I think the name Cheryl would be perfect. No other name would do if you're having a little girl."
I scooped a spoonful of broccoli and cheese soup in my mouth, then took a bite of the whole wheat bun. If my mouth was full, a response wouldn't be required.
Megan stepped up to the plate, throwing her hat in the ring. At least she was turning the Name Game into something that wasn't quite so cutthroat. "Not to toot my own horn, but Megan is
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