“Why do you need to lock it?”
“Because I have a ton of storage in there right now. Because of my job, I have to follow FERPA guidelines, which just means I have to keep student records locked for safekeeping.”
Elle wrinkles her nose. “What if you accidentally throw away something important that you needed to keep?”
“Then that’s an entirely different conversation. I could be subject to scrutiny as a professor.” She picks up another magazine and, after opening the cover, slams it shut and tosses it on the end table. “Are you okay?” I ask. “How’re you feeling about this appointment?”
“Nervous.” She stares out the window, biting her lip. “What if my kid uses crayons on the wall like that one?”
“It’ll be fine,” I reassure her. “I’ll come back with you and provide moral support, if you don’t mind.”
She considers this a moment, her face scrunched.
“You can kick me out if you feel uncomfortable.”
We hear “Charlotte Coburn” being called, and both of us stand. A young woman who introduces herself as Emily, the medical assistant, leads us to a room, first taking Elle’s temperature, blood pressure, and weight. Reviewing her medical forms, Emily points to the blank questionnaire regarding family history.
Elle stares at the floor, avoiding Emily’s inquisitive gaze.
Sympathetically, I pat Elle’s hand. “Unfortunately for our family tree, we’ve had a lot of gaps and holes in our genealogy. I didn’t know my parents, so it makes it hard to fill Charlotte in about her genetics.”
A sigh of relief escapes Elle’s lips, and I smile kindly at Emily, who shrugs in return. “You aren’t the first to be in the dark about your ancestry. Not a problem. We only ask so we can be proactive in case there’s something health-wise that could complicate a pregnancy.” She moves on to explain how an ultrasound works, then instructs Elle to put a paper gown on, assuring her the procedure is painless.
Elle’s flustered, her eyes darting around the room, first to the machine next to the exam table, then to the educational posters on childbirth that line the walls.
I flip open a magazine as Elle disrobes to put on the gown.
She climbs onto the exam table, her legs swinging wildly, her bare feet kicking the metal as she anxiously awaits the arrival of the ultrasound tech. Her body language isn’t much different from mine as my feet tap nervously on the tile.
A woman walks in, introducing herself as Jessica. “I’ll be conducting your ultrasound today.” She thumbs through the papers and peers up at Elle. “We’ll check the heart and amniotic sac, look at the fetus, which grows every week. First things first. Usually we’re able to do the ultrasound with the wand against your skin without having to insert it vaginally. It won’t hurt at all—just the gel we rub on you is a little cold, so be prepared.”
Jessica tries to make Elle comfortable as she lies on the table. She talks to her about school and her future plans, and she keeps the conversation light. I listen closely for any other discrepancies.
Jessica asks me a few questions as the “grandma,” but I have a hard time concentrating. They don’t necessarily tell you up front, but if they can’t find a heartbeat with the wand on your abdomen, they try internally, and if nothing but a blank screen shows up, then you’re either not as far along as expected, or you might have a blighted ovum, signaling a miscarriage.
My foot taps louder, drawing attention to itself, and Jessica gives me a warm smile, her brown eyes kind.
“You must be excited, Grandma,” she says.
Grandma?
The word throws me, since it implies that I’ve skipped an important step, to be a mother.
I recover, wrapping my hands around my legs, keeping them steady and quiet.
Elle gasps as the cold goo is squirted onto her abdomen, and Jessica moves the wand in a circular motion. “Almost there.” Jessica points to the monitor as we both watch, riveted, terrified for different reasons.
We stare mesmerized at the movements on the screen that confirm a baby is indeed in utero. “Congratulations, Mama.” Jessica pats Elle on the shoulder.
Elle turns to me, her expression one of awe.
“After the appointment, you’ll get a very important souvenir.” Jessica grins at Elle, who’s still rendered speechless. “Would you like to know the sex of your baby?”
Her blue eyes widen. “You can tell that already?”
“Yes. You’re further along than most women that come in here for their initial appointments.”
I want to interject and ask to know, but it’s for Elle to decide.
“You know what? I don’t.” She tugs at the gown she’s wearing. “I want to be surprised.”
Giving me a timid smile, she beams at the screen and then at me. I knew when she saw her baby in the actual flesh that there would be no question as to its importance in her life.
Jessica congratulates us once again before exiting.
A few minutes later, the obstetrician walks in, accompanied by Emily. “Hi, I’m Dr. Cheryl Avanetti.” A red-haired woman with cornflower blue eyes peers at us from behind glasses. She has a smattering of freckles, and everything about her is small—from her tiny nose to her thin lips. Her petite frame matches her delicate features. She looks to be in her early forties, her hair pulled back into a chignon, her pale face framed with tiny diamond studs.
“Hi, Charlotte,” Dr. Avanetti says. “And you are?”
“Mom.” I offer my hand.
Warmly, she shakes mine, then Elle’s. “Nice to meet you both.”
“You met Emily, my very capable MA.” Dr. Avanetti scrubs her hands at the sink, then slips on some latex gloves. “Judging by the ultrasound and what you wrote as the last date of your menstrual cycle, I’d guess you to be around fifteen to sixteen weeks.”
The doctor explains today’s appointment and the next steps. “I’ll do a Pap smear, which is just a physical exam to make sure everything is working properly and intact. Have you had a Pap before?”
“Yes,” Elle says.
She peers over her glasses. “Do you have any questions or concerns?”
Elle shakes her head, hands clamped on both sides of the table.
“Is this your first pregnancy? Any miscarriages or abortions?” I tense at the word, the meaning so powerful, yet its weight isn’t the same when it’s uttered by someone who doesn’t know your history.
“Yes, my first one, and no to your other questions.”
“Perfect.” Dr. Avanetti smiles at her with her small teeth. “Okay, cold hands coming up.” Emily hands her a speculum, and as she starts the exam, I skim a magazine.
“When will my next appointment be?” Elle asks.
“Another three to four weeks.” Dr. Avanetti looks at a calendar on the wall. “Provided everything is normal on the labs. You’ll get your blood drawn after this.”
“Today?” Elle’s face pales, her mouth aghast.
“Guess we won’t have to worry about this one getting tattoos.” Dr. Avanetti pats her knee. “Nothing to worry about. Just a routine draw. We do it to check your HCG levels, which are your hormone levels, and to make sure nothing harmful is passed to the fetus.”