Page 15 of Maybe My Baby

Donovan glanced at his watch. “You’ve got time. Don’t rush it.”

Thankfully, her stomach cooperated. The only problem now was how weak she was from not eating.

Because she wanted to get ready on her own, she had Donovan lay out everything on the bed, including the black pants and turquoise top. He was prepared to dress her like a child. She could see it on his face. But a woman needed some shred of dignity, even in this unorthodox situation.

He tookhisclothes to another room, but when he returned, his jaw was grim. “Yell if you feel faint. And don’t stand up, damn it.”

Ginny managed a smile. “You didn’t used to cuss this much.”

His lips quirked. “Well, you didn’t used to be pregnant.”

They made it to the doctor’s office with ten minutes to spare. Donovan insisted on holding her arm as they walked inside. His intense regard was sweet but overwhelming.

Because Ginny was a new patient, there were reams of paperwork to fill out. Finally, they called her back.

She glanced at Donovan, feeling as hesitant and unsure as a middle-school girl. “Do you want to come with me?”

His expression softened. “Yes, Sunshine. Yes, I do.”

The nurse bustled through the usual routine of blood pressure, temperature, and medications. “The doctor will be in shortly,” she said. “Put on this gown. The sheet drapes over your lap.”

Without asking, Donovan disappeared briefly while Ginny changed out of her clothes. She sent him a text to come back in when she was ready.

Not surprisingly,shortlywas a euphemism for almost an hour. Ginny slept on the exam table. Donovan leaned his head against the wall and napped in an uncomfortable chair.

With little fanfare, the doctor eventually entered the room and introduced herself. She was late fiftyish and no-nonsense.

As the doc prepared to do the initial assessment, Ginny felt her face flush. She gazed at Donovan pleadingly. “Would you mind stepping into the hall during the pelvic exam?”

His eyes might have bugged out a tiny bit. “Sure,” he croaked.

The doctor did what she had to do and scooted back from the table. “Would you like me to bring your partner back in?”

“Yes. Please.”

Ginny was modestly covered when Donovan returned. He took his original chair. The doctor addressed Ginny. “We’re looking at a due date of late April. But tell me about this nausea.”

“It starts at 5:30 or 6 in the morning and lasts on and off until late afternoon. At that point I can usually get a few bites down if I take it slowly. Same with drinking.”

The doctor picked up the pages Ginny had filled out. “Because you’re a new patient, I don’t have any benchmarks. How much weight do you think you’ve lost?”

“Six pounds. Maybe seven.”

“Over what period of time?”

“A week.”

“Hmmm...”

The doctor laid the chart aside. “I think for now, you’re not in the danger zone, though I know this is very unpleasant. My nurse will give you some information about over-the-counter vitamin B6 and ginger. Both of those help with nausea. You’ll have to force yourself to eat and drink in the late afternoon and evening if that’s the only time you can keep food down. But if your condition worsens—if you get dehydrated and your electrolytes go haywire—we’ll have to consider admitting you to the hospital.”

“I understand,” Ginny said, chastened.

The doctor moved her attention to Donovan. “I need you to be the point person on this. Get her anything and everything to eat or drink that sounds appealing. When her nausea finally improves, we’ll start her on prenatal vitamins.”

Donovan nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And if you see her becoming listless or unresponsive, call my office immediately.”

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