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A prick of nervousness zaps through me as I lay down. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s just the excitement of it all culminating as little tingles inside my body.
The ultrasound tech taps away at her computer as Rafael helps me get situated. Taking his own seat, he scooches the chair as close as he can to me and holds my hand with both of his. When I look at him, he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingers with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.
It’s a genuine but nervous smile and a matching one to mine.
The tech squirts the cool jelly on my beautiful belly and begins telling me how she’s going to take a lot of measurements first, then review everything with me in a few minutes.
I don’t like this part at all. Because even though I am watching exactly what she’s doing on the screen in front of me, I have no idea what she’s seeing. But when Rafael squeezes my hand, he centers me back to him.
“I was thinking Lance for a boy,” he says quietly, causing me to jerk my attention fully to him.
“Absolutely not,” I frown. “Have you forgotten about that terrible date I went on with that douche-canoe? He literally lived on a boat.”
“Oh yeah,” he smirks. I think he does remember. “What about Parsley for a girl? We could spell it P-A-R-S-L-E-I-G-H.”
My giggle turns into a low chuckle that turns in a belly laugh that I'm trying to keep quiet. Wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes, I muster out, “Yes, of course. Love it.”
“Or maybe for a gender-neutral name, we could go with Zillow,” he says, like it’s the best idea he’s ever had.
Full-on snorting and struggling to breathe, I finally get out, “Like the website? Why not go even further with Apartments.com?”
He takes my hand and wipes his own laughter from his eyes. “They could have…two middle names,” he wheezes. “Dot and Com.”
“Alright, guys,” the ultrasound tech gently interrupts our giggle fit. “Excellent names. You’re going to have a hard time choosing amongst them, I can tell. Are you ready?”
“Yes. Please,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “But we don’t want to know the sex.”
“No problem,” she smiles, modifying something on her screen at the request. “Have you felt any kicks yet?”
I groan. “No.”
“That’s okay, and totally normal at this point either way. The good news is they are lively. Can you see the hearts beating? See that movement right there? And there?” My breath catches in my chest watching our baby squirm about. There’s a lot of movement all over the image. “Oh my, they are hard to catch,” the tech smiles, chasing the baby with the ultrasound wand.
When I peek at Raf, he’s tearing up but it’s not from residual laughter. Choking back a little sob, he watches me like I’m the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. He leans over to plant a lingering kiss to my forehead and murmurs, “Look at what you’re doing, Angel. ¡Dios mío! Gracias.”
I’m grateful I’m already crying a little because him thanking me for carrying this baby pulls at my heartstrings harder than I’ve ever experienced. This man is one of the most special people in my life and he’s given me this unexpected gift—the most amazing, life-changing gift.
“Everything looks really good, and all their measurements are right where they should be,” the tech says, tapping her keyboard several more times. “The good news is both heart beats are strong. And your blood pressure is right where it should be too.”
Wiped away is every previous thought and emotion I was holding. “Excuse me, what?”
“Yeah,” she smiles. “Your blood pressure is one-ten over sixty-eight and the babies each have a heart rate of a hundred and fifty beats per minute.”
“Each?!” I screech and Rafael shoots out of his chair.
“Yeah,” the ultrasound tech drawls, furrowing her brow. “You’re having twins. You didn’t know that?”
“No!” I cry.
Her eyes widen. “They didn’t catch that at your twelve-week ultrasound?”
“I just found out I was pregnant at twelve weeks!” My heart is pounding like a jackhammer and my whole body is paralyzed. I can sense Rafael pacing next to me in the small dimly-lit room.
This can’t be right. This is a mistake. What is with all these medical professionals giving me shocking information recently? Are they conspiring against me? Is this all some elaborate prank? I still think they’ve all mixed up the charts. There’s no way. You know, I’m not entirely sure I’m actually pregnant now that I think about it.
The tech looks at a folder on her station. “Looks like you had Dr. Clarkston,” she sighs, making me no less at ease. “She just retired. I’m wondering if this slipped through the cracks.”
“Ya think?” Raf huffs his indignation.
