Page 41 of Thorns That Bloom
And yet with each passing day, that high-strung feeling doesn’t leave me. Istillexpect some unforeseen attack. Morediscomfort. I constantly think about it. I’m on edge in the most bizarre way. Caught in a glue trap like a mouse, dying and fighting to stop thinking about a thing that’s all that’s on my mind.
When I look at people in the office, or even just Kristoff, I wonder if they know, too. I wonder if everyone’s so damn nice to me not because I’m new, not because I’m pregnant, but because theyknowand they pity me.
My chest feels like it’s being squeezed by a press even as I go about activities that should excite me. Like visiting the hospital for a more joyful purpose: one of my pregnancy checks.
I shiver when the doctor squirts the cold gel onto my stomach, even though she warned me. Smiling at her, I push my shirt higher up and eagerly watch the little ultrasound screen as she slides the probe across my skin.
I’ve been too preoccupied with my own problems and hangups and not focused enough on the baby. Makes me feel like a shit parent. “They’ve been really active at night recently,” I say quietly to prevent myself from nervously fidgeting while the doctor looks.
“That’s perfectly normal at this stage. The baby is getting bigger, so they take up more space and need to adjust more. Ah, here we go,” she says, turning to me with a comforting smile while she points on the screen.
Everything inside me releases once I see the fuzzy image in the shape of a tiny human.
“That’s the baby’s head there.”
My eyes widen, and there’s a grin on my lips that I can’t really contain. The picture is much clearer than last time. I canalmost see the nose, too. And the little torso and hands and feet. They’re moving in there, looking…content. Safe.
“All looks good at first glance. Let me take some measurements, okay?”
I nod and watch the doctor work. The gel isn’t cold anymore as she glides the probe across my stomach. I even enjoy the feeling. Clicking a few buttons and marking the spots on the screen, she is focused for a moment.
“Mhm, good. The head circumference is perfect for your gestational age. So does the…femur length. We’re right on track.” She keeps going, and the ease in her voice calms me down. “Now, the abdomen…”
As she moves the probe, the slightly muffled beats of the baby’s heart echo through the quiet room. The rhythmic, solid sound of it makes me close my eyes with a relaxing sigh.
“Sounds beautiful, doesn’t it?” the doctor turns to me with a smile, and I nod. “The heartbeat is nice and steady. Strong. All seems to be right where we want it, Mr. Snyder. Your little one is perfectly healthy from what I can tell.”
I don’t know if it’s the hormones or the stress of what’s been going on, but I want to cry. I want to cry thinking about that little thing beingmy baby. Alive there and developing well, and a part of me. Looking at the image makes me forget abouteverything else.
“Before we finish up, would you like to know the gender?”
My heart picks up speed. As I blink and meet the woman’s eyes, I think she can tell what the answer is. Her face falls a little, but she keeps that warm, professional expression, waiting for my confirmation.
Why do I feel so weird about this? It’s not like it will really change anything. Or that knowing will change the truth. But I’m just…not sure I feel ready for all that. A whole new world of worries, and expectations, and ideas for me to contend with.
“N-next time, maybe,” I mutter, averting my eyes.
“Of course! No problem, Mr. Snyder. It’s all up to you. Are we going to take some pictures today?”
That brings some joy back into my heart. “Yes, please.” I love having those snapshots. Makes it all a little more real. And I need to send something to my parents, considering I’ve been pretty much ignoring them.
I walk out of the office with two printed copies in hand. I nearly bump into a passing couple because I can’t stop looking down at the images and smiling.
Names. I should start thinking about names.
And about signing up for classes, too. There’s so much to do. It was true when people told me this pregnancy would pass faster than I could imagine.
When the opportunity to get some extra work in the main office area presents itself, with the premise of me maybe joining the primary engineering workforce after my paternity leave, I take it. I adjust my hours slightly and start working afternoons.
It also means there’s less risk of seeing Theo. He might work in shifts, but the majority of them are morning or day, so there’s an even smaller chance of an overlap.
That’s good for me—at least that’s what I tell myself, even if I still can’t manage to open up about it and what he made me feel with Dr. Stewart. She’s patient enough, focusing on other things I need to tackle in our sessions, but she tries gently tobring it up every time.
Being at work in the evenings isn’t easy for me, so we talk through that.
Evening is when it happened. It’s why no one was there to stop it.
It was late, with not many people still at the company. Dr. Stewart helps me with the breathing and centering exercises for when I get overwhelmed or my anxiety plays up. I keep reminding myself that I’m not at Torken anymore. The office is safe. I’m safe. My pheromones have finally stabilized, and so there’s no risk of me going into actual heat.
