Page 89 of Unexpecting

“Proper pre-natal care is effective in assuaging some of the irrational fears and concerns of the first-time mother.”

A Young Woman’s Guide to the Joy of Impending Motherhood

Dr. Francine Pascal Reid (1941)

So Brit was finallymarried and on her honeymoon. I wished Tom all the luck with her. Morgan swore she was over Anil—telling him off at the wedding was the last thing she needed to get him out of her system, and the quick jab to the nose didn’t hurt. I reluctantly gave her my blessing to get involved with Derek. My friends were happy, and I was happy for them.

As for me, I had no idea what was going on with J.B. I kept thinking about the look in his eyes when he kissed my fingers. But that was all I did. I didn’t want to push; I didn’t want to rush. I’d just coast along and see if I could figure out where things were going. If they were going anywhere. I mean, technically, nothing needed to be going on. Lots of parents lead separate lives. Just because I was having his baby didn’t mean I had any claim to J.B. But I had noticed the lack of overnight visitors in the house in the last few weeks.

I really didn’t know what to think. One minute J.B. was kissing my fingers and telling me this baby was bringing us closer together, and then he backed right off. It was confusing. Was it a man thing, I wondered, or was he reconsidering things between us? What did he want from me? Aswith anything that confuses me that much, I did my best to stop thinking about it. It was not easy, but at least I had a pretty good distraction.

The week after school started, I had an appointment for my first real ultrasound, as opposed to the one Dr. Morrissey gave me. I was going to see my babies again. I settled impatiently into a chair in the waiting room of the lab, shifting uncomfortably because of a very full bladder.

″Hey,” said a voice. I looked up to see J.B. standing in front of me.

″Find it okay?” I asked as he sat beside me.

″No problem.” He drummed nervously on his leg.

″Are you nervous?”

″No! ’Course not. It’s just—look what happened the last time I came to one of these things with you. We ended up with triplets.”

I had to smile at his logic. “Unless they find another one hiding in there, it can’t be that bad. You do know what they’re going to do to me in there, don’t you?”

″They’re going to do something to you? Something bad? Will it hurt?”

″Well, they’re just taking pictures, but they’re like, pictures of the babies. Is that what you want to see? Not that they’ll look like babies yet, they’re really just—well, they’re babies, but I’m only sixteen weeks, so…” I trailed off when I realized I was babbling. “Is that okay? You want to see the babies?”

J.B. gave me his slow smile, the one I hadn’t seen since before this baby stuff started. I had to admit it gave me a bit of a thrill to see it. So much for not thinking about him. “Well, I thought I’d just have a chance to see your bare belly and all,” he drawled. “And maybe those other things that look like flotation devices.” I gave a bark of laughter and covered my breasts with my arms as he grinned at me.

″Aren’t they huge?” I whispered. “And the doctor said they’ll only get bigger.”

We sat in the waiting room for over half an hour. J.B. waited patiently, leafing through a magazine, but I couldn’t sit still. It might have had something to do with the two liters of water currently on hold in my bladder and anxious to escape. Finally, they called my name, and J.B. stood up with me. The nurse/technician put up a hand to stop him.

″Perhaps your husband can wait here for a few minutes,” she began, with such a strong Scottish brogue it took a minute for me to understand her.

″Oh, he’s not my husband!” I told her a little too loudly. “He’s not—he’s just the father.”

″I’m a friend,” J.B. cut in grimly, with a disgusted look at me.

″He’s a friend,” I repeated lamely. I gave J.B. a sickly smile.

″Well, anyhow, I’ll see that he comes in after I do my tests.” She raised an eyebrow at J.B.

″Thanks.” Without a word to me, he sat down.

I followed the woman—who looked sturdy enough to walk across the entire Scottish Highlands without stopping—down a dim hallway into a curtained cubicle with a bed and a computer. It was very dim, with the screen providing the only light in the room, and very warm.

My Scotswoman gestured to the bed. “Hop up there, dear, and we’ll take a little look-see.” I complied, and after a brief tussle with my pants, allowed her to help me pull them down so that my stomach was exposed. She then slathered it with the jelly stuff Dr. Morrissey used, only much more of it, talking all the while, but with such a thick accent, I could only understand about every third word she said.

″When did your doctor say you’re due?” The way she said due sounded like doo. It made me smile. She placed the roller-ball thing on my belly.

″February 16. Dr. Morrissey said—”

″You have Dr. Morrissey?” the technician tried to hide a smile. “She’s a verra good doctor.”

″She scares me,” I admitted. I didn’t want to say she was a bitch, but that was exactly what I was thinking.

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