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Meredith’s loud laughter lasts until the ultrasound technician comes in, and then she goes silent.

“We may not hear a heartbeat this early,” the tech warns. “But don’t worry, it’s pretty common if it’s before ten weeks.”

She puts the jelly on Meredith, who squeals a bit, gripping my hand, and then places the wand down on her belly.

After a few moments of the technician moving the wand back and forth, awhoosh-whoosh-whooshsound comes out loud and clear.

I gasp. “Is that?—"

“That's your baby."

I watch as she moves the wand around again, showing a little peanut with a strong heartbeat.

“Oh, it’s so small.” Meredith’s voice is full of worry.

“That’s normal. You’re only about nine weeks along, according to the measurements. You probably aren’t even showing yet.”

“I’ve already gained weight.”

“That’s normal. You’re pretty thin. The doctor will want you to gain more, I’m afraid.”

Meredith doesn’t balk, just nods.

“I’ll feed her.” I grin, and the tech laughs.

“You’ve got a keeper.”

“Don’t I know it.”

I expect Meredith’s voice to be a teasing drawl, but she sounds serious, and I can’t help smiling at her when the tech prints out our pictures and leaves the room.

I look down at the ultrasound pictures as the doctor comes in, asking Meredith about her symptoms.

I’m only half-listening.

“We’ll have to do a glucose test since you told me about your mother’s gestational diabetes. That’s a real concern. It can cause the baby to be too large for a natural labor.”

My eyes fly to the doctor’s. “Gestational diabetes?”

“Yes, diabetes that only occurs during pregnancy. Meredith has a hereditary link, so we just want to keep an eye on it.”

“And if she does have it?”

“Then we’ll have to be careful, measuring baby’s size every couple of weeks instead of only a couple of times overall. She’ll have to watch what she eats and check her blood sugar levels several times a day. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, all right? She and baby are doing fine right now.”

“She’ll make an appointment for the test?”

The doctor nods. “Any other questions?”

Meredith shakes her head, but I frown.

“Her nausea, it’s been really bad. She’s having trouble keeping things down.”

“I can prescribe a mild anti-nausea pill, but take it sparingly. Less medication is always best for the baby.”

“I’m also spotting just a little,” Meredith says in a quiet voice, and the doctor hums.

“No more than a tablespoon could just be implanting. Is it more than that?”