Baby Ultrasound Quotes

Called to the Early Pregnancy Unit by one of the SHOs to confirm a miscarriage at eight weeks – he’s new to scanning and wants a second pair of eyes. I remember that feeling only too well and scamper over. He’s managed the couple’s expectations very well, and clearly made them aware it doesn’t look good – they’re sad and silent as I walk in. What he hasn’t done very well is the ultrasound. He may as well have been scanning the back of his hand or a packet of Quavers. Not only is the baby fine, but so is the other baby that he hadn’t spotted.

She would be a girl; Lila had seen her on the ultrasound. A baby girl. Tiny hands and tiny feet and a tiny heart and lungs, floating in the warm broth of her body.

The past twelve weeks had been a blur, and now she was about to meet her baby via ultrasound, go home with a picture of an alien baby that people would pretend was beautiful, and here she sat after drinking a liter of fluid, her panties moist from a bladder that gave up control right around the time her shoes stopped fitting. A light breeze could make her pee at this point. A sneeze would unleash a tsunami.

It is undignified to inject yourself with hormones designed to slow or enhance ovarian production. It is undignified to have your ovaries monitored by transvaginal ultrasound; to be sedated so that your eggs can be aspirated into a needle; to have your husband emerge sheepishly from a locked room with the “sample” that will be combined with your eggs under supervision of an embryologist. The grainy photo they hand you on transfer day, of your eight-celled embryo (which does not look remotely like a baby), is undignified, and so is all the waiting and despairing that follows.

I bit the inside of my cheek until it hurt and I looked away from her. “He couldn’t sit with me in the bathroom and watch the little pink line show up on the stick or put his hand to my belly and feel his baby kicking. He wouldn’t be able to come with me to ultrasounds or hold my hand while I push. This is a man who wants to be a daddy, Sloan. And I’m never going to be a mommy. It just is what it is.

I cut out the best of the ultrasound pictures and kept it on my bedside table. I would spend hours staring at it. It was such an inadequate, ugly image, so frustrating in its refusal to give me anything to hold on to, any way of envisioning who the baby would be. My body was making something in secret, and I was reduced to spying on my internal organs with these grainy black and white photos. But I hung on, faithful, waiting,

even when the spotting finally stopped, I didn’t believe I was having a baby. Even when every ultrasound was normal. Even when I could feel the baby kicking and rolling, even when I was going to prenatal classes, choosing a crib, washing the baby clothes, and even when they were telling me, Okay, you can push now, I still didn’t believe I was having a baby. Not an actual baby. Until she cried. And I thought, That sounds like a real newborn baby. And

Ryder’s in jeans and his shirt from last night, and he’s staring at the fridge. When I pad closer, I see he’s not just staring at the door. I’ve hung my various ultrasound pictures to the silvery surface, and he’s studying them. His index finger is poised over my recent twenty-week one, and he’s tracing the outline of the baby’s legs. “Hi,” I say, clearing my throat. He straightens and then smiles. It’s a sheepish look, as if he’s been caught. “Just checking out Papaya.” I love that the name Papaya has stuck. That must be a sign he feels the same. I gesture to the thirteen-week picture, when I first heard the heartbeat. “I think Papaya was a fig in that one. Funny thing—when I was so sick, Papaya was only a kidney bean.” “Kidney beans are known to be troublemakers.” He steps closer, drops a strangely chaste kiss to my forehead, and sets his hands on my belly. “And I think Papaya is almost a mango now, right?” I nod. “How did you know?” “I might have googled pregnancy-to-fruit comparisons. Papaya will be an eggplant in a little while.” I blink. Holy shit. He really knows his pregnancy fruits. Better than I do.

His hand felt odd against her swollen belly. She started to speak at the same moment that the baby suddenly moved. Tate’s hand jerked back as if it had been stung. He stared at her stomach with pure horror as it fluttered again. She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “Is that…normal?” he wanted to know. “It’s a baby,” she said softly. “They move around. He kicks a little. Not much, just yet, but as he grows, he’ll get stronger.” “I never realized…” He drew in a long breath and put his hand back against her body. “Cecily, does it hurt you when he…” He hesitated. His black, stunned eyes met hers. “He?” She nodded. “They can tell, so soon?” “Yes,” she said simply. “They did an ultrasound.” His fingers became caressing. A son. He was going to have a son. He swallowed. It was a shock. He hadn’t thought past her pregnancy, but now he realized that there was going to be a miniature version of himself and Cecily, a child who would embody the traits of all his ancestors. All his ancestors. It made him feel humble. “How did you find me?” she asked. He glared into her eyes. “Not with any help from you, let me tell you! It took me forever to track down the driver who brought you to Nashville. He was off on extended sick leave, and it wasn’t until this week that anybody remembered he’d worked that route before Christmas.” She averted her eyes. “I didn’t want to be found.” “So I noticed. But you have been, and you’re damned well coming home,” he said furiously. “I’m damned if I’m going to leave you here at the mercy of people who go nuts over an inch of snow!” She sat up, displacing his hand, noticed that she was too close to him for comfort, swung her legs off the sofa and got up. “I’m not going as far as the mailbox with you!” she told him flatly. “I’ve made a new life for myself here, and I’m staying!” “That’s what you think.” He got up, too, and went toward the bedroom. He found her suitcase minutes later, threw it open on the bed and started filling it. “I’m not going with you,” she told him flatly. “You can pack. You can even take the suitcase and all my clothes. But I’m not leaving. This is my life now. You have no place in it!” He whirled. He was furious. “You’re carrying my child!” The sight of him was killing her. She loved him, wanted him, needed him, but he was here only out of a sense of duty, maybe even out of guilt. She knew he didn’t want ties or commitments; he’d said so often enough. He didn’t love her, either, and that was the coldest knowledge of all. “Colby asked me to marry him for the baby’s sake,” she said bitterly. “Maybe I should have.” “Over my dead body,” he assured her.

Around Christmas 2003, we visited Chris’s parents in Texas. I found myself exceptionally hungry, though I couldn’t figure out why. When we came back to California, I just felt something was off. Could I be…pregnant? Nah. I bought a pregnancy test just in case. Chris and I had always planned to have children, but we weren’t in a rush about it. In fact, we had only recently decided to be “a little less careful.” It was a compromise between our spontaneous impulses and our careful planning instincts, which we both shared. We figured, if it happens somewhere in the next year… I was upstairs in the house working when I decided to take a break and check things out. Wow. WOW!!! Chris happened to be home fiddling with something in the garage. I ran downstairs, holding the stick in my hand. When I got there, I held it up, waving. “Hey, babe,” he said, looking at me as if I were waving a sword. “Come here,” I said. “I have to show you something.” He came over. I showed him the stick. “Okay?” “Look!” “What is it?” “Look at this!” Obviously, he wasn’t familiar with home pregnancy tests. Maybe that’s a guy thing-given that the tests reveal either your worst nightmare or one of the most exciting events of your life. I’d wager every woman in America knows what they are and how they work. Slowly it dawned on him. “Oh my God,” he said, stunned. “Are you…?” “Yes!” We confirmed it at the doctor’s soon after. I know you’re supposed to wait something like twelve weeks before telling anyone-there’s so much that can go wrong-but we couldn’t keep that kind of secret to ourselves for more than a few days. We ended up sending packages with an ultrasound and baby booties-one pink, one blue-to our parents, telling them we had a late Christmas surprise and to call us so we could be on the phone when they opened them.

Chase shoved one of the ultrasound pictures in Bree’s face, “Then what the hell is this?” I stepped up next to her, took the photo out of his hand and spoke softly, trying to hide my shaking. “It’s mine Chase.” You could have heard a pin drop. Chase’s face had softened as soon as he’d seen me, but turned into one of shock when he registered what I’d said. After a few minutes, a grin that reached his eyes spread across his face as he searched mine. His eyes slowly trailed down to my stomach and grew wide, “You’re pregnant Princess?” “Yes.” I whispered. He lifted his head to smile at me and dropped it again, gaze fixed on my bump. This time no one stopped me when I let my hand fall to cover it lovingly. “Is it – is it mine?” “Of course it is.” “We’re going to have a baby?” “Yes.” “This is our baby?” He reached for the photo in my hand. I smiled, “Yes.” His expression was so beautiful, tears instantly poured down my cheeks. “We’re having a baby.” I laughed through my tears and nodded my head. Chase ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a laugh. He looked from the picture to my stomach once more, “I love you so much.” he breathed and closed the distance between us, crushing his lips to mine. I didn’t care that his family was watching, I threw my arms around his neck and let him lift me off the ground. After I was good and kissed, he set me back down and dropped to his knees. Running his hand over my gummy bear bump, he lifted my shirt and kissed my bare stomach twice. A sob broke out of my chest and I looked at Claire who was freely crying and leaning into Robert. Even Bree was wiping a few tears away. Chase stood back up and cupped my face in his hands, “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I was scared,” I shrugged, “I still am.” “You don’t have to be scared,” he whispered and kissed my nose, “I’ll take care of us.” I

The doctors had hit an artery, which is not standard procedure. They worked quickly to deal with it-to this day I have no idea what actually happened, but whatever they did worked, because our beautiful Angel was born soon after. Chris was the first person to hold her. They word beaming was invented to describe the proud expression on his face. I went into the recovery room and slept for a while. When I woke up, Chris was holding Angel. He looked so natural with her-a big six-footer holding a six-pound bundle in the crook of his arm, already bonded to her. “Do you want to hold her?” he asked. I was exhausted, and I knew she was safe with him, so I told him no. He forced himself to smile. He explained later that he thought my response meant I was rejecting the baby-having worked on a ranch, I guess he had seen animals do that, with dire results for their new offspring. But of course I wasn’t; they just looked perfect together, and I was barely conscious. I asked for her a few minutes later, when I felt stronger. He passed her on gently, and I held her for the first time. There is no way really to describe how that feels. In many ways, the birth was a miracle, not a disaster. Because of Angel’s dilemma, her father was able to be there at her birth-something that wouldn’t have happened had that ultrasound been routine, since I would have waited another four or five weeks for her. A potential tragedy had been turned into something beautiful. It was quite a miracle, I thought, that he had been present for both births, despite the long odds against it. Sometimes God’s plan for us is difficult to decipher, but the end result can be far more wonderful than we thought. I knew that. I felt that. And yet, I had a terrible feeling, lying in the bed that night, one I couldn’t shake and one I didn’t dare put into words: Maybe God gave Chris this chance to be with his daughter because he’s going to die in Iraq.

Over the course of two years, from June 2004 to June 2006, two separate deaths did nothing to ease my overall anxiety. Steve’s beloved Staffordshire bull terrier Sui died of cancer in June 2004. He had set up his swag and slept beside her all night, talking to her, recalling old times in the bush catching crocodiles, and comforting her. Losing Sui brought up memories of losing Chilli a decade and a half earlier. “I am not getting another dog,” Steve said. “It is just too painful.” Wes, the most loyal friend anyone could have, was there for Steve while Sui passed from this life to the next. Wes shared in Steve’s grief. They had known Sui longer than Steve and I had been together. Two years after Sui’s death, in June 2006, we lost Harriet. At 175, Harriet was the oldest living creature on earth. She had met Charles Darwin and sailed on the Beagle. She was our link to the past at the zoo, and beyond that, our link to the great scientist himself. She was a living museum and an icon of our zoo. The kids and I were headed to Fraser Island, along the southern coast of Queensland, with Joy, Steve’s sister, and her husband, Frank, our zoo manager, when I heard the news. An ultrasound had confirmed that Harriet had suffered a massive heart attack. Steve called me. “I think you’d better come home.” “I should talk to the kids about this,” I said. Bindi was horrified. “How long is Harriet going to live?” she asked. “Maybe hours, maybe days, but not long.” “I don’t want to see Harriet die,” she said resolutely. She wanted to remember her as the healthy, happy tortoise with whom she’d grown up. From the time Bindi was a tiny baby, she would enter Harriet’s enclosure, put her arms around the tortoise’s massive shell, and rest her face against her carapace, which was always warm from the sun. Harriet’s favorite food was hibiscus flowers, and Bindi would collect them by the dozen to feed her dear friend. I was worried about Steve but told him that Bindi couldn’t bear to see Harriet dying. “It’s okay,” he said. “Wes is here with me.” Once again, it fell to Wes to share his best mate’s grief.

He would not want to sound like a haunted man; he would not want to sound as though he was calling from a welfare hotel, years too late, to say Yes, that was a baby we had together, it would have been a baby. For he could not help now but recall the doctor explaining about that child, a boy, who had appeared so mysteriously perfect in the ultrasound. Transparent, he had looked, and gelatinous, all soft head and quick heart; but he would have, in being born, broken every bone in his body.

Advances in ultrasound scanning have allowed doctors to see that babies start smiling in the womb, possibly as a reflex in preparation for life after birth.

How likely is it that you’ll be present when I give birth? • If not, who will be there instead? • Can I meet all of your partners? • What is your policy on ultrasound? • What forms of pain relief do you recommend? • How many women in your practice give birth without pharmacological pain relief? • What do you think about doulas? • How often am I likely to see you while I’m in labor? • What prenatal tests do you do routinely? • What labor procedures do you do routinely? • What methods do you suggest to alleviate labor pain? • Can my baby’s heart rate be intermittently monitored by the nurses? • Do you perform episiotomies routinely? How often do women in your care give birth without episiotomy?

The obstetrician had already been there to speak to her earlier when Tish was in the room with her. The doctor told her that there was a mark on the baby’s heart when they did an ultrasound,

Most of the time, I’m kind of numb,” she replied. “You know, I think every mom out there can relate to the fact of how long it takes to create a baby, those nine months that you watch every ultrasound and every heartbeat. And it takes nine months to create a human being, and it takes seconds for an AR-15 to take that away from the surface of this Earth. And it wasn’t just my son. It was 25 other souls that left this Earth that day because that weapon fell into the hands of a tormented soul. And that haunts me.

What has grown in deep darkness and water, has formed flesh and bone and lives among us.

Are you willing to wait until the umbilical cord has stopped pulsating before you clamp it? ■ What prenatal tests do you suggest getting? Which ones do you require? ■ Which tests do you usually order for women like your partner (her age, race, medical history, and risk factors)? ■ How many sonograms (ultrasounds) do you routinely recommend? ■ Are women free to walk, move, and take a shower throughout the early stages of labor? Can the baby be put to the breast immediately after delivery? ■ Are you willing to dim the lights when the baby is born? ■ How much experience have you had with twins or more (if applicable)?

She’ll rest now,” the doctor continued. “Like I said, the drugs I gave her won’t harm the babies. If nothing else, they’ll help because she won’t be fighting the pain and her blood pressure should come down. I’ll be back in a few hours. I’ll do another ultrasound. It isn’t necessary, but you can reassure her I did check and all is well.” “Thanks, Doc. I’m staying with her tonight. I don’t want her to be alone.” “I’d recommend you go home and get some rest, but I can tell you’d probably just punch me if I tried to get you out of here.” “You got that right, Doc. I’m sitting right here and making sure that if she wakes up, she knows I’m here, keeping her safe. I shouldn’t have left her in the first place.” Doctor Weber shook his head and left Jack to watch over Jenna. -Doctor & Jack

Come on, Melinda. You can’t avoid it forever. We both know you’re pregnant.” “Ugh,” she said, accepting the cool, wet cloth. She pressed it to her face, her brow, her neck. She didn’t have any more to say. But Jack knew. There had been tears, exhaustion, nausea. She turned watering eyes up to him. He shrugged and said, “You eased up on the breast-feeding, popped an egg and I nailed it.” Her eyes narrowed as if to say she did not appreciate the explanation. He held out a hand to bring her to her feet. “You have to wean David,” he said. “Your body can’t completely nourish two children. You’ll get weak. You’re already exhausted.” “I don’t want to be pregnant right now,” she said. “I’m barely over being pregnant.” “I understand.” “No, you don’t. Because you haven’t ever been pregnant.” He thought this would probably be a bad time to tell her that he did so understand, since he had lived with a pregnant person and listened very attentively to every complaint. “We should go see John right away, so you can find out how pregnant.” “How long have you suspected?” she asked him. “I don’t know. A few weeks. It was a little tougher this time….” “Oh, yeah?” “Well, yeah. Since you haven’t had a period since the first time I laid a hand on you. God, for a supposedly sterile woman, you certainly are fertile.” Then he grinned, fully aware it would have got him smacked if he hadn’t been holding the baby. She whirled away from him and went to sit on their bed. She put her face in her hands and began to cry. Well, he’d been expecting exactly this. There’d been a lot of crying lately and he knew she was going to be mighty pissed off. He sat down beside her, put an arm around her and pulled her close. David patted her head. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “I’m not delivering this one. I want that understood.” “Try not to be cute,” she said through her tears. “I think my back already hurts.” “Can I get you something? Soda? Crackers? Arsenic?” “Very funny.” She turned her head to look at him. “Are you upset?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry it happened so soon. Sorry for you. I know there are times you get damned uncomfortable and I wanted you to get a break.” “I should never have gone away with you.” “Nah. You were already pregnant. Wanna bet?” “You knew before that?” “I wondered why you were so emotional, and that was a possible reason. I never bought your whole sterile thing. But I don’t have a problem with it. I wanted more kids. I like the idea of a larger family than the three of us. I come from a big family.” “There will not be five, I can guarantee you that,” she said. Then she bored a hole through him with her eyes. “Snip, snip.” “You’re not going to blame this on me, Mel. I suggested birth control. A couple of times, as a matter of fact. You were the one said it could never happen twice. And then explained that whole business about not ovulating while you’re nursing. How’s that working for you so far? Hmm?” “Screw you,” she said, not sweetly. “Well, obviously…” “I’d like you to understand I wasn’t relying on that breast-feeding thing. I’m a midwife—I know that’s not foolproof. I really didn’t think it possible that… Shit,” she said. She sighed deeply. “I just barely got back into my jeans….” “Yeah, those jeans. Whoa, damn. Those jeans really do it to me. No one wears a pair of jeans like you do.” “Aren’t you getting a little sick of having a fat wife?” “You’re not fat. You’re perfect. I love your body, pregnant and unpregnant. I know you’re trying to get me all worked up, but I’m not going there. You can try to pick a fight with me all day and I just won’t play. It wouldn’t be a fair fight—you’re out to get me and we both know it. Do you have appointments this morning?” “Why?” “Because I want to go to Grace Valley for an ultrasound. I want to know when I have to have the house done.” *

Leaning back until I was lying on the bed, I rolled us over and hovered over her body. She dragged her hands through my hair and giggled when I bent low and kissed her stomach over and over. “What does it feel like?” “Nothing,” she said on a laugh as her fingertips continued to trail across my head. “You haven’t really been sick, have you? I remember that day last week, but I can’t think of anything else.” I felt shitty for not noticing, if she had been. I should have picked up on this, shouldn’t I? “Not really. There’s been times here and there, but from the horror stories I’ve heard, I don’t have it bad at all.” I nodded and kissed her stomach again before reaching over to the nightstand. Grabbing the ultrasound picture, I laid it down on the bottom of her stomach and hopped off the bed, looking for my pants. After I found them, and took my phone out of the pocket, I walked back over to Rachel and opened up the camera app. “What are you doing?” “Letting everyone know about my present.” That soft smile was back, before her eyes went wide in horror. “No! I’m in my bra and underwear!” “Calm down, Sour Patch. I’m not about to let anyone see the rest of you. You’re mine, not theirs.” All that you could see in the picture was her torso and the ultrasound picture. As soon as she gave me the okay, I set up a text to go to Mason, Candice, Maddie, Eli, and all our parents. Above the picture I typed out: MY WEDDING PRESENT, and underneath, I did a twist on Rachel’s words from the envelope: BABY RYAN 1 AND BABY RYAN 2 WILL BE HERE IN MARCH. Once

Abruptly, the sea of people parted . . . and then there they were. Bella, with Nalla in her arms, Z standing beside his girls. Beth broke down all over again as the female came forward. God, it was impossible not to remember how Nalla had started this, putting into motion the need that had become undeniable. Bella was tearing up, too, as she stopped. “We just want to say yay!” At that moment, Nalla reached out to Beth, a gummy smile on her face, pure joy radiating out. No turning that down, nope, not at all. Beth took the little girl out of her mother’s arms and positioned her on her chest, capturing one of the pinwheeling hands and giving kisses, kisses, kisses. “You ready to be a big . . .” Beth glanced at Z and then her husband. “. . . a big sister?” Yes, Beth thought. Because that’s what the Brotherhood and their families were. Close as siblings, tighter than blood because they were chosen. “Yes, she is,” Bella said as she wiped under her eyes and looked back at Z. “She is so ready.” “My brother.” Z shoved out his palm, his scarred face in a half smile, his yellow eyes warm. “Congratulations.” Instead of shaking anything, Wrath shoved that ultrasound picture into his Brother’s face. “Do you see him? See my son? He’s big, right, Beth?” She kissed Nalla’s supersoft hair. “Yes.” “Big and healthy, right?” Beth laughed some more. “Big and healthy. Absolutely perfect.” “Perfect!” Wrath bellowed. “And this is a doctor saying it—I mean, she went to medical school.” Even Z started laughing at that point. Beth gave Nalla back to her parents. “And Dr. Sam told me she’s delivered over fifteen thousand babies over the course of her career—” “See!” Wrath yelled. “She knows these things. My son is perfect! Where’s the champagne? Fritz! Get the fucking champagne!

So, young lady, you want to hear this baby’s heartbeat. Well, let’s just see what we can find. How about that?” He used a strange thick wand over her tummy, turning it this way and that. Then, just when she thought she wouldn’t hear it, a heartbeat echoed through the room. Then a second heartbeat kicked up a rhythm almost as fast as the first. Shannon gasped and almost bolted upright. “Is that my heartbeat too?” Dr. Wehrum blinked, then a slow grin cracked his face. “No, I believe that’s a second baby.” Shannon’s mouth dropped open in shock and she looked at John. Her big, strong, tough as nails former Marine looked like he’d just been mule-kicked. “Did you say two babies?” His voice was too quiet. John didn’t speak that quietly unless he was really out of his depth. “You have two babies. This kind of steps up your care. Let’s see if we can get our ultrasound tech in here to get some pictures. I know it’s a little early but let’s see what we can see.” Shannon

Why in the world are you crying?” “I had a fight with Cam,” she said, tears running down her cheeks, her words caught on a sob. “Cam?” Paul asked, confused. “I was upset. He got all teary when he saw the ultrasound—one of them is for sure a boy. I hated that he got emotional in front of John Stone and I lost my temper.” “Oh, Abby…” “He got emotional?” Paul repeated, more confused. “Cameron?” “Vanni—I called him a sperm donor! I was so mean.” “Oh, Abby!” “Sperm donor?” Paul said, totally lost. “He laid it out for me, very seriously. Angrily. He’s not getting out of my way on this. He’s going to be a problem—as if I don’t have enough problems.” She leaned toward Vanni and wept on her shoulder. “He said he can’t make me like him, but he won’t let me take the babies away from him!” “Like him?” Paul said. “Babies? What the hell’s going on here?” Vanni looked over her shoulder at Paul. “Cameron’s the father—don’t tell anyone.” “Please don’t tell anyone,” Abby stressed tearfully. Paul was quiet for a long moment while Vanni just held Abby, comforting her. Finally he found his voice. “Are you fucking kidding me?” “I didn’t mean to be so hostile,” Abby wept. “Maybe it’s pregnancy.” “Sure it is, honey,” Vanni comforted. “Wait a minute,” Paul attempted. “Wait a minute here.” “Long story, Paul,” Vanni said. “Just don’t tell anyone. I’ll explain later, okay?” “But I thought they just met!” Paul said. “Obviously they didn’t just meet. Don’t be a dimwit. I’ll tell you about it later, after Abby gets calmed down.” Paul turned away from them and went to pick little Matt up from the floor where he played. “Must be a long story,” he muttered. “Very, very long. Say, about five months long?” “Abby,

Was everything all right with the ultrasound?” he asked warily. “Fine,” Cameron said, sipping. “Babies look great.” “And at least one’s a boy,” Paul said, picking up his drink. After a swallow he found Cameron glaring at him again. “What? I wasn’t told not to tell that.” “You are a dimwit,” Cameron patiently pointed out. “Yeah? Well, I’m a dimwit who was going to get lucky once the baby was tucked in, until you got Abby all upset and crying and—” He stopped suddenly. He shook his head dismally. “Gentlemen, I propose a toast,” Jack said, lifting his glass. “Let’s drink to silence. If this conversation ever leaves this bar, we’re all going to die. Skinless.” “Silence,” the other men agreed. “All

Was everything all right with the ultrasound?” he asked warily. “Fine,” Cameron said, sipping. “Babies look great.” “And at least one’s a boy,” Paul said, picking up his drink. After a swallow he found Cameron glaring at him again. “What? I wasn’t told not to tell that.” “You are a dimwit,” Cameron patiently pointed out. “Yeah? Well, I’m a dimwit who was going to get lucky once the baby was tucked in, until you got Abby all upset and crying and—” He stopped suddenly. He shook his head dismally. “Gentlemen,

WI—Saying that the practice saves her considerable time and effort each day, local ob-gyn doctor Anna Schiesser told reporters Thursday that she typically just shows soon-to-be parents the same ultrasound picture for every baby.

He couldn’t sit with me in the bathroom and watch the little pink line show up on the stick or put his hand to my belly and feel his baby kicking. He wouldn’t be able to come with me to ultrasounds or hold my hand while I push. This is a man who wants to be a daddy, Sloan. And I’m never going to be a mommy. It just is what it is.

On the ultrasound I saw the baby's outline. Was love so flimsy? Was I so easily suggestible? I hadn't met this person - only knew his shape and felt his movements - but already he was everything to me.

One time Ogden fingered my ass as he fucked my mouth. I was on all fours on the bed, and he was standing. I pulled back too far, and his cock fell out of my mouth. “C’mon,” he said, and put his cock back into my mouth. I liked feeling like a thing. I liked feeling like nothing. There was more nothing in a woman. There was the asshole, pussy, and mouth. But you could also store a baby in the belly and two jugs of milk fit perfectly in each tit. Imagine the voice-over in a car commercial, and the image of a woman’s naked body on a shiny black surface, the camera slowly panning up. The female body, luxurious and roomy, can accommodate three cocks and three babies at full capacity. One baby sucking on each nipple and one sleeping comfortably inside [show ultrasound of zygote in women’s belly] while there is one cock in the pussy, one in the ass, and one sliding in and out of the mouth.

Modern obstetrics still preaches that birth is a battle between mother and child and worries that babies grow too large to safely exit the bodies that built them. However, obstetricians cannot accurately discern a baby's size in utero toward the end of a pregnancy, according to recent studies. When ultrasounds predict big babies, they are wrong about half the time, far too frequently to be relied upon. This fact has not stopped doctors from inducing or scheduling surgery for pregnant people, essentially claiming they cannot birth their own babies, that their babies won't fit through the birth canal before they have even tried. Despite obstetric alarm sounding, what we know hardly suggests that women routinely build babies too large to birth.

I had with me a small battery-operated Sony system that I used to record thoughts and melodies, and I busied myself making a recording of the baby’s heartbeat, a low but significant rhythm being picked up by ultrasound. Maybe I’d write a song to the heartbeat one day. A creative thought designed to hold off my growing terror.

She continued, “I had an ultrasound when I was about twenty weeks pregnant, and they found the spina bifida and hydrocephalus. I saw a bunch of doctors. Every single one of them told me all the things that were wrong with my daughter. Some people told me to abort her—you know—my child. All of these doctors told me all the problems we were going to have. “Then she was born and the doctors told me about the lesion on her back and the size of her head. She was going to be taken to the Baby Hospital away from me, and she needed surgery. All I could think about was everything wrong with her and maybe I’d made a mistake keeping her. “Then Thomas came into my room. Do you know what he said? He said, ‘What a beautiful baby!’” She paused. “No one else had called her a baby.

It is disingenuous to claim that a fetus is not a definite, living human being. Those who have seen ultrasound images of pre-born babies have eyewitness, empirical evidence of the unborns’ living humanity.

The room whirled around me. I couldn’t catch up to it. Pregnant. Me. Me and Josh. When the doctor finally left the room after I’d asked all my questions and I got to see the baby again on the ultrasound and hear the heartbeat, Josh and I sat hugging. “It was that night,” I said. “The night of Sloan’s party.” He laughed and wiped a wet strand of hair off my cheek. “The first time. It was the only time we didn’t use condoms back then. One shot and I knocked you up.” I snorted. “It was your super sperm. Thank God you made an honest woman out of me. Dragged me right down for a civil ceremony, befitting my scandalous condition.