Page 24 of Goal Line

My ability to focus only on what’s in front of me, without feeling anxious about things that might happen down the road, has always served me well as a competitive figure skater.

But now, “later” has arrived. This pregnancy isn’t something I can ignore. Now that I’m not training, my body ischanging rapidly, and my breasts feel like they’re heavier every day. Things that used to be easy, like walking up two flights of stairs, are getting more challenging. With nothing else to steal my attention or focus, this situation is nowrealand it’shere.

Luke’s fingers curl around my side as he hugs me to him and drops a kiss on the top of my head. And that’s when the hot tears of disappointment start falling. As Luke stands beside me, comforting and supporting me, I have to wonder if there’s anything worse than having exactly what you’ve always wanted dangling right in front of your face, but lacking the ability to make it yours?

I wipe the tears away with the heel of my hand, right as the woman turns back toward me with my insurance card in hand. She takes one look at me and says quietly, “Let’s get you into a room.”

“Thanks,” I mumble as I step toward the door that will lead back to the patient rooms.

When she opens the door from the other side, she tells Luke, “I need you to wait out here.”

I glance up at him and give him a watery smile, but he just looks at me with worried eyes before he nods and turns back toward the waiting room.

“I’m Val, Dr. Lowery’s nurse,” the woman from the reception desk says. “I’m going to get you into a room. We’ll go over a few questions, and then I’ll get your height and weight.”

“Okay,” I say, following her down the hallway.

As soon as the door shuts behind me in the small room, Val sits on the rolling stool across from the exam table shegestures to. I take a seat, then she looks at me with concern in her eyes and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just emotional.”

“Are you safe?” she asks.

My eyebrows dip together, and I’m sure there’s confusion written across my face.

“Sometimes when women come in and they’re upset,” Val says, “and they’ve got a big guy towering over them protectively...it can be a sign that there’s something not quite right about the relationship.”

My shoulders shake with laughter. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing funny about that. But that guy”—I tilt my head in the direction of the waiting room—“is my best friend, and the biggest teddy bear you’ll ever meet. He’s just here to support me.”

“Okay.” Val nods, not even trying to hide her look of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. So he’s not the father of your baby?”

I wish.

“No.”

“So, why are you crying?”

How can I tell her I’m crying because Luke issoperfect, but will never be mine? I can’t. So instead, I say, “The reality of this pregnancy is just setting in, I guess. Everything I say here is confidential, right?”

“As long as you’re not a danger to yourself or others, yes.”

I nod. “I’m a competitive figure skater. My season just ended, and I’m feeling very overwhelmed as I think about what this pregnancy means for me personally, and for my career. Given the timeline of when I’ll give birth, there will only be one qualifier my partner and I can compete in beforethe Olympics. And we won’t have long to train to get ready for it after the baby is born.”

“You’ll need to talk to Dr. Lowery about when you’ll be cleared to start training again,” Val says. “There’s a period of time, postpartum, where you’re supposed to take it easy because your body will need time to heal. But first things first. What was the first day of your last period?”

I explain to her why I don’t know a precise date, but I give her the date of conception and explain the due date that my doctor back in Los Angeles gave me.

“Okay,” she says as she eyes my abdomen. “We’ll do an ultrasound to check the baby’s growth and confirm the due date.”

“I know I don’t look like I’m that far along,” I say.

“That sometimes happens when people are training like you must be. But we’ll just double-check that everything is progressing normally?—”

“Because you’re concerned that it isn’t?”

She shakes her head. “No, but because you’re a new patient, we want to establish a baseline of where you are right now, so we check your progress at future visits against that baseline. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Clearly, I’m not doing a good job of hiding my anxiety. It’s not like I wantedthispregnancy inthesecircumstances. But as soon as I found out I was pregnant—as soon as I realized I was going to be a mom—I knew it was meant to be. I’m not sure how or why, but I just knew that loving this baby was what I was put on Earth to do.