Page 77 of Falling in Love with Two

My eyes get big as I watch him squirt lube onto what looks like a giant sex toy.

Dylan gets up to stand on my other side and holds my hand.

The doctor turns away for a moment, and I whisper, “You’d think he’d at least buy me dinner first.”

We both smile, but mine turns to a grimace when the wand gets shoved somewhere uncomfortable. I try to breathe through the pressure. He moves it around for a second, and my nerves go crazy, wondering if something is wrong.

After what feels like forever, he finally says, “There we go. There’s your little guy or gal.”

I thought that when I saw my baby on the screen, it would set my motherly hormones into motion. I thought endorphins would course through me with love and excitement. But as I stare at the tiny blob, I feel…

Nothing.

I feel nothing.

Does that make me a horrible person?

Probably.

I look up at Dylan who is beaming from ear to ear. He’s staring at the screen as if the image on it is the most dazzling thing he’s ever seen. I wish I was having that reaction right about now.

But nope. Still nothing.

Hell, I wouldn’t have even been able to tell what I was looking at if the doctor hadn’t pointed things out to me.

He does some sort of funky doctor math and figures out my due date. I knew when I got knocked up, so the due date wasn’t really a surprise. I’m about eight weeks right now.

After he prints off some photos for us, he tells me I can get dressed and leaves the room. As I put my clothes back on, Dylan looks at the photos. “Leah, this is our baby.”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to muster up as much excitement as I can.

Once I’m dressed, we walk out to schedule my next appointment in a month and then head back to the house.

In the truck, I look over all the stuff in the bag. It’s a lot of information to take in all at once. The thing that stands out to me is a piece of paper that reads: Food and Drink to Avoid While Pregnant.

Oh, that sounds like a real page turner.

Dylan looks over and asks if I’m okay. I reply with, “Yeah, I’m alright. Just tired.”

And guilt-ridden. I feel like the worst mother-to-be in the entire world. I should really feel more of a connection to this baby than I do.

What is wrong with me?

When we get back to the house, Dylan heads into the kitchen to try to find something to make for lunch. Meanwhile, I look over at the banned foods list.

Dylan asks, “What are you looking at?”

“A list of all the things I shouldn’t consume.”

“Ouch.”

“No lunch meat. Minimal caffeine. No alcohol. It’s like they don’t want me to have any fun.”

“Well, two out of three of those things shouldn’t be a shock to you,” he says.

I basically ignore what he said. “Are you kidding me? I can’t have sushi!”

He looks up at me while cutting up some fruit. “Do you like sushi?”

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