Page 45 of Healing Bonds

I had to keep this child alive. I couldn’t fail again. I wouldn’t survive losing another baby.

If I did, Ryan might as well dig a grave next to Angel and this one for me.

Two months later, we were patiently waiting in yet another doctor’s office, my swelling stomach finally becoming noticeable. Ryan, the sweetheart of a man, kissed my tummy every morning and evening, whispering his love to our little bean.

He was sitting next to me now, his knee bouncing with anticipation. Today, we would finally see our little one. Today was the day of our first ultrasound. I was both excited andnervous, though my excitement was beginning to win out little by little.

“What has you so nervous?” I asked Ryan in a small whisper. The lady sitting on the other side of the room kept glancing at us. She was further along than I was—much further—almost at the end of her pregnancy, judging by the size of her belly. She had gotten up to pace the small waiting room after a few minutes of sitting there, one hand on her stomach and one on her back as she waddled around, checking the gray door leading to the back, where the doctors were hiding from us.

“I’m excited to see our baby, to see our little miracle.” he confessed. I smiled and leaned my head on his shoulder, quietly sighing. I was excited, too, but my nerves were stopping any excitement from showing through.

“I’m so nervous,” I whispered. “What if something is wrong already? Then, what do we do?” Closing my eyes, I counted to ten to calm my racing heart. It had been months since my last panic attack, and I wasn’t about to relapse today—not on a good day like today.

I had to remain optimistic.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ryan assured me, squeezing my hand in his, settling me and anchoring me in a way only he had ever been capable of doing. “You’ve been taking all the vitamins that you’re supposed to, and you’ve been doing everything right. Stop worrying. The stress is bad for the baby.” I snorted. He thought it was a button I could press on and off, but my nerves were shot. I wanted to pace the room with the other lady… anything to help pass the time.

Ten minutes later, the pacing lady’s name was called, and then, it was just Ryan and I left in the room. “When do we need to start buying the crib and all that?” he asked, looking at the television in the corner of the room playing an advertisement of Rooms to Go, featuring their latest line of cribs and changingtables. He sounded almost nervous. I was scared to start decorating, to fall in love with furniture, to pick all the clothes, paint the walls pink or blue, only to come home with no baby.

“When we know the gender, at least.” I would be out of my first trimester by then, too, which put me out of the risk zone. I picked at a scab on my arm, feeling relief for just a moment, and then, the gray door squeaked open, grabbing our attention.

“Amber Wilson,” the short woman in pink scrubs called, reading off a clipboard before searching the room. I hesitated, even though Ryan stood up and looked at me expectantly. “Well, come on, dear. I don’t have all day.” The woman smiled softly, and instantly, something about her set my nerves at ease.

I would be okay. Our baby would be okay. Nothing was wrong. I needed to trust Ryan.

“I’m sorry… nerves,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks grow hot at the lame excuse, but the woman only smiled and nodded her head in understanding before opening the door wider for Ryan and me to enter.

“Ah, new parents.” She laughed, reading something from the clipboard before tucking it under her arm and giving us all her attention. “I remember those days. My husband was so excited. He grew up with a lot of siblings, and he wanted lots of kids to run around our house. Meanwhile, I was an only child, and the thought of being pregnant, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me.”

I barked out a laugh, instantly slapping my hand over my mouth at the obnoxious sound, but she only laughed. “Scares the shit out of me, too,” I admitted.

She led us to a room where she checked my vitals. Then, she sat on a leather stool, jotting down some notes on her paper before looking at us. “Is this your first pregnancy, honey?”

“No,” Ryan and I both started and then paused, glancing at each other. I was at a loss for words. I wasn’t ready to talk aboutthis with a stranger. I still had trouble speaking about it with Celine, who was my sister-in-law and best friend.

Ryan placed his hand on top of mine and squeezed before clearing his throat.

“We lost a little girl just over a year ago. We were hit by a drunk driver and the baby…” Ryan paused, his hand tightening around mine. He cleared his throat to continue. “Our baby died from the impact.”

The woman wrote this down—at least, I assumed she did—as she looked at us with sympathy. I hated that look. “I’m so sorry to hear. So, this little one is very special?”

“Very,” I whispered, tears gathering in my eyes as I laid a hand on my small tummy. My heart swelled with love for our little bean. Every day, I saw myself holding our little one, and I couldn’t wait for him or her to be here already.

“Well, then, today is a day for celebration, not for tears, dear. You’re going to hear your little one’s heartbeat and see the baby for the first time.” I nodded, although I couldn’t stop my already flowing tears as they rushed down my cheeks.

A few minutes later, I was situated on the exam table with a warm gel smothered over my stomach. Ryan was at my shoulder, both of his hands grasping mine as we watched the dark screen in anticipation.

“Look—there’s your baby,” the doctor announced, moving the wand around my stomach, and then, she paused, her eyes widening. My heart slammed against my breastbone, fear swarming me. “Well, congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson! You’re having twins!”

“What?!” I shrieked, looking up at Ryan, who only smiled down at me, his eyes shining with happiness.

“Sounds to me like God is looking after us, Ames,” he whispered before leaning down to kiss my forehead.

She had to be fucking kidding me.Twins?!

TWO MONTHS LATER

“I need the fucking toilet again, Ryan. Pull over at the gas station please.” We were on our way home from Orlando after spending the weekend at theme parks in celebration of my twenty-ninth birthday. We were absolutely exhausted. I didn’t get to ride anything, but that didn’t matter to me. I still had a blast.

---