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“Okay, Dad, here’s the head, nice and round.” The technician gives a short laugh, but I lean forward. The black-and-white image is grainy, so I squint at it. I can see a sort of circle, but it’s not very clear.
“And a leg…” I see what looks like a femur, and my heart rate picks up. When I see the outline of a foot, my eyebrows shoot up.
“Those are his toes?” Tilly laughs and squeezes my hand. But the technician doesn’t answer; her brows knit together. “What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice laced with worry.
“Erm, I just need to speak with the doctor real quick. Not to worry. I’ll be right back. It might be the machine.” She gets up and takes her gloves off. She gives us both a quick smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
After she walks out, I cradle Tilly’s hand in both of mine. To my surprise, Tilly doesn’t look concerned, though I suspect it’s for my benefit.
The doctor and nurse come in a few minutes later. The doctor, an aging man with a pleasant face and white hair, takes a seat on the stool and rolls over.
“Hello, Matilda, Tom. I’m Dr. Garrick. My technician had some concerns, and I’d like to take a look if that’s okay?” Both Tilly and I nod.
The technician squeezes more gel onto Tilly’s stomach and starts roving over her belly. She pauses the screen, and the doctor studies the image. He whispers something to his tech, and she moves the wand. The doctor smiles and pushes a button on the machine.
A rhythmic whooshing sound, faster than my own heart, starts playing. But it’s offbeat, like dueling drums. “Hear that? That’s your babies’ heartbeats.”
I shake my head. “Wait, beats?”
The doctor nods and points to the screen. “There are two. But the second little one is hiding.” He pushes another button and prints out a picture. He hands it to me, and Tilly leans over to get a good look.
“My poor nurse thought there was a malformation in the leg. See here? Kind of looks like extra toes, right? Gave her a small heart attack.” He chuckles and starts getting up. “Congratulations, kiddos. This explains why she’s measuring so big too.”
He takes his chart and starts writing something down. “You’ll need to see a specialist to get both babies’ measurements. You can do that downstairs today.”
He rips a piece of paper off and hands it to me. I’m not sure I’m even breathing. “Relax, Dad, everything looks great. We did see the gender of the front baby. Would you like to know?” Dr. Garrick looks first to Tilly and then to me.
We both nod. “It’s a boy.” My world starts to swirl around me, like I’m suddenly stuck inside a dark room during a hurricane. “As there is only one placenta, it looks like they are probably identical.”
Tilly is shaking her head, and my mouth is open. I had been worried that this would happen. I had just gotten used to the idea of having one kid; now, all of a sudden, we have two. Dr. Garrick laughs and slaps my back. “Good job, Dad. Things look great with Baby A, but we need to make sure Baby B is the same. Head downstairs, okay? Maybe figure out how to close your jaw on the way?”
The doctor is still chuckling as he walks out of the room with the technician.
“Tommy?” Tilly asks when we’re alone.
My eyes are still wide as I look at her. “You okay?”
I swallow and force a smile. “Erm, yeah. You?”
Tilly nods. “I’m okay. Nervous, but not very surprised, I guess.” She looks down and then back up, her eyes wet. “Two boys? Tommy, we are in so much trouble. How the hell are we gonna do this?”
Hearing her admit she’s not okay somehow makes me calmer. I lean over and kiss her forehead. “I mean, people do it all the time, right? Your parents did it.”
She laughs and puts a hand on top of her head, blinking away tears as she looks at the ceiling. “I guess they did.”
I reach down and lower her shirt before patting her tummy. “Two boys. Little men.” I take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go downstairs and check on ‘Baby B,’” I say and get up. She rises with my help, and we walk out.
***
We’re driving home after the appointment, both quiet. The second scan went well, and both boys were given a clean bill of health. I’m driving, trying not to think about all we need to do to get ready. There are only seven months to prepare, and it doesn’t feel like long enough.
Tilly is staring out the window, a sure sign that her mind is just as overwhelmed. “Maybe Andy can live with us to help?” she suddenly says.
I laugh at the idea. I don’t think of Miranda as very maternal. She’s nice enough, but I can almost picture her holding a baby at arm’s length with a look of disgust on her face. “Maybe,” I say. I check my mirror before switching lanes to exit the freeway.
But as I do, a car a few lengths away does the same. I furrow my brows. It’s the second time the same car has changed lanes right after we did. I slow a bit and put on my blinker. I’m not about to turn but want to see what the other car does.
It puts a blinker on. I switch it off, and the car does the same.
