Page 107 of Until I Find You

“Oh, my god, youidiot,” Abigail said in the most loving way a person could to their brother who was looking at potential fatherhood.

She was sworn to secrecy and got us the information, not without some strange questions from Sonia about Abigail’s own maternal status.

Her secrecy has been far from my mind since we entered the waiting room. Pastel colors and pregnant women clouded my vision.

I’m still scared. Which I think is natural. But I’m a little worried it’s not clicking into place yet.

Everyone always says the second you find out you’re having a baby, the world shifts on its axis. I always thought that shifting would come in the form of abject joy and fearlessness.

My world shifted on its axis, but all I can think about is the next however many months. And eighteen years. And a lifetime of loving something more than me.

It’s not that I don’t want it. But the feelings are more complicated than I anticipated.

Jack’s reactions have been calming. He’s so excited, so assured that we can do this. And I don’t doubt it.

None of this is going the way I thought, though.

I thought Keiki would be our baby for a while. Hell, years. I never anticipated having children before thirty and now here Iam, laying back for an obstetrician and lifting my shirt so she can squeeze that ridiculous gel onto my flat stomach.

“You don’t have to hide over there, Dad,” Dr. Harvey says to Jack.

I can’t help but laugh. Dad. Not Daddy.

Jack shoots out of his chair and approaches the side of the examination table. “Right, sorry.”

“I always love how nervous first-time dads are,” Dr. Harvey says to me as if Jack isn’t in the room. “It’s cute.”

I grin at Jack. “Itiscute.”

Jack’s cheeks go pink.

I reach out and take his hand. Squeeze.

Dr. Harvey takes a seat on her rolling stool and whips out the wand connected to the ultrasound machine. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

I stare at the back of the screen, chewing the inside of my cheek. I wish I could just watch so I’m not clenching every muscle.

Jack reaches down and moves some of my curls out of my face. “Breathe, Camilla.”

“Yes, that’s always a good thing to do,” Dr. Harvey says.

I giggle. “I can’t help it, I’m nervous.”

“Everyone has a first time,” the elderly woman says, sliding the probe over my stomach. “Ah!”

Her exclamation comes before we hear the sound. A rapid thumping or whooshing sound.

Dr. Harvey peeks out from behind the screen and smiles. “That’s the heartbeat.”

I let out a shaky breath, just as Jack inhales.

“Totally normal.”

It’s real. Not just pink lines on a pregnancy test. A beating heart.

My baby.

I swallow, attempting to quell the burning behind my eyes.

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