Page 85 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

“I… how?” I ask, my voice cracking in a way that I’m hoping no one notices.

Marjorie’s eyes are wide. “Sunny, have you been using protection with…?”

“Marjorie,” I hiss, glancing at her with a mix of disbelief and horror. “You don’t just ask someone that question in front of a doctor! I don’t even know how far along I am…”

“Well, wecando an ultrasound to find out…”

Marjorie agrees on my behalf. “Yes. I definitely think we need this. Especially with you being so sick.”

My head spins. I’ve been utterly consumed by fog. “An… an ultrasound?”

Dr. Thompson raises a hand, gesturing for me to stay calm. “It’s just a precautionary step, Sunny. It’ll give us the clarity we need. Trust me, nothing to worry about. You’ve been feeling off, and we need to make sure everything’s progressing as it should.”

“Right.” I blink, still not quite understanding what’s happening.

I look at Marjorie, her face a mix of shock and concern, and follow the nurse who’s come in to guide us. As I walk down the hallway, my legs might give out from under me.

This isn’t how I thought today would go. I thought I’d get a prescription and be on my way.

But now I’m headed toward an ultrasound, and all I can think of ispregnant. How is that even possible?

The ultrasound room is an unforgiving white, and the chill in the air makes my skin prickle. I try to ignore the scent of antiseptic, but it claws at my senses, suffocating me with its cold, clinical reminder that everything is about to change.

I’m terrified.

The nurse gestures for me to lie down as she explains they’ll do a transvaginal ultrasound since it’s too early for the regular one. My stomach twists. This is not what I pictured.

The chill shocks me, and I flinch. It’s as if every nerve in my body is screamingsomething is wrong, but I can’t pinpoint what. I close my eyes for a moment, willing myself to breathe. To calm down.

But it’s not working.

I stare at the monitor, my pulse hammering in my ears. My brain is spinning a million miles an hour.

What am I even looking for? A little heartbeat? A small flicker? The moment I’ve been waiting for to prove everything will be fine.

But there’s no guarantee, no comforting voice telling me everything will turn out okay. It’s all up to this machine, this moment.

The seconds drag on, each one stretching into infinity. I don’t know if my body’s shaking from the cold or the terror settling deep in my chest.

And then… flicker.

I freeze, every muscle locking in place. My breath hitches.

Did I just see that?

Before I can even process it, another flicker, the screen pulses again, and this time, it’s unmistakable.

“Okay, Sunny,” the doctor says, her tone unnervingly calm. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Her voice is a punch to the gut.What are we working with?

I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be seeing. My heart’s hammering so loud I’m convinced it’s going to burst out of my chest.

And then, it happens.

“It’s a little early,” she says slowly, “but there are two distinct sacs here.”

Two.