Dr. Phelps smiles down at me. “Of course. That’s why most women buy the tests before they even call the doctor. There are very few who I’ve broken the news to.”
“How far along are they when they usually figure it out?”
She looks at me curiously, but answers anyway. “Generally anywhere from four to eight weeks. It all depends on the regularity of their cycles and how their body adjusts to the increased hormones.”
I turn my head to look at him; he looks so pale. My mind wanders, and it hits me that if I’m any further than six weeks along, the baby could be Pierce’s. If it’s going through my head, it must be hammering into his.
“Okay, Lila, let’s get you down to radiology.” She turns to Blake, holding her hand out. “I’m sorry, but I forgot to ask your name.”
“Blake,” he says quietly, accepting her hand.
“I’m assuming you’re the father. Congratulations,” Dr. Phelps says.
He simply nods as he looks past her to me. There’s question in his eyes, mixed with a pain I’ve seen a few times before. It’s the look he often has before he runs.
“Follow me,” Dr. Phelps instructs, motioning to the door. If she picks up on the tension in the room, she doesn’t say it.
I follow the doctor, and Blake stays behind me. His mood changed quickly; I’m used to that, but not here. Not when I need him now more than I ever have, and even if this baby is Pierce’s, it wouldn’t change how I feel.
Blake is it. He’s the one I want to spend forever with.
The doctor hands me a gown. “Take everything off from the waist down. We have to us the transvaginal ultrasound this early to detect the baby.”
The door closes, and I quickly undress and pull the gown on oblivious to Blake. My teeth chatter as I lay on the table waiting for the ultrasound. The room isn’t cold, but my nerves are getting the best of me. What happens in this room could change everything or nothing at all.
The tech explains the probe then gently inserts it inside me. It feels strange at first, but everything else on my mind makes the sensation easy to ignore. Blake doesn’t say a thing as he stands a few feet away, hands tucked in his jean pockets. I know he senses me watching him, but he keeps his eyes on the monitor.
“Is this your first baby?” the tech asks as she watches the screen.
I wait a few seconds to see if Blake will respond, but he doesn’t. “Yes,” I answer, biting down on my lower lip.
She stops on a black oval shape. “There’s your baby,” she says pointing to a small, light colored spot within it. It looks like a little white bean.
This is when it first hits me … that I’m going to be a mom. It’s one thing to know, but when you actually see it growing inside of you, it’s a whole new feeling. Not too long from now, this little baby is going to count on me for everything. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’ll always be mom to him or her.
Tears fill my eyes as I watch the tech take measurements. My little bean is going to come into the world soon and become the greatest thing I’ve ever accomplished … greatest things we’ve ever accomplished.
The door clicks, and I look over noticing the tech and I are the only ones left in the room. I want to yell for him, but what would be the point? He’s been running scared since the day I met him. What made me think he would change now?
A few words … a few promises. Maybe they were empty after all.
A single tear rolls down my face as I focus my attention back on the screen, and the dark room provides a good mask.
“The doctor wanted me to measure and see how far along you are; from the measurements I just took, I’d guess you’re at five weeks.”
A lump forms in my throat. I panic, and the words just come out. “Does that mean the baby was conceived five weeks ago?”
“No, no, it means you more than likely conceived about three weeks ago. It’s hard to say at this point, but from looking at the size of the yolk sac, it couldn’t have been more than a few days before that. Pregnancies are kind of weird in that way—the weeks start ticking before there’s ever a baby. Does that make sense?”
I nod out of relief. I understand the important part—that this is Blake’s baby. The rest can wait until later.
She removes the probe and helps me up from the table. “Let me get you some pictures before you leave,” she says. She pulls them from the machine and smiles, handing me three. “Hopefully, he’ll come around,” she says softly, squeezing my shoulder.
If only she knew he comes and goes faster than the seasons change. I change quickly, and as I make my way out the door, my mind wanders to where he might be. What made him leave before he even knew? If he left again, I’m not taking him back. This time, he’s not going to be the one to take it all away.
Surprisingly, he’s standing a few feet from the door with his back against the wall. One glimpse of his red eyes and some of the frustration eases away.
“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” he asks. He’s looking at me but not really. He’s here, but yet he’s gone. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
WHEN HE ASKED, I PICKED the farm because it gives me peace. It’s where I always used to go when I needed time to think or mend a broken heart. If he’s going to hurt me, he might as well do it here.
Not a word was said on the way out to the car or on the ten-minute drive out here besides a few directions from me on where to turn.
He pulls into the drive of my grandparents’ old farm. My dad inherited it after grandma passed away a couple years ago but he hasn’t gotten up the nerve to sell it, and I don’t think he ever will. I hope not anyway. Behind the house is a big red barn and just beyond that is a narrow creek and miles of cornfields. Along the creek is where I like to sit and think. No one bothers me back there.
“Park in front of the barn,” I instruct.
He does, and I waste no time jumping out to grab one of grandpa’s old horse blankets from the barn.
“Where are you going?” he yells from behind me.
“Meet me behind the barn!” I yell back, not even bothering to look at him. Sometimes, when you feel your heart cracking, you do your best to build a shield around it so the pieces won’t fall apart completely. That’s what I’m doing—bracing for the worst while also trying to convince myself I can do this on my own. It won’t be easy—nothing ever is—but I’ve proven to myself over the last year that I’m strong. Hopefully, I’m strong enough to get through this.
When I walk out behind the barn, he’s standing with his back to me overlooking the water. I would give anything to have a glimpse inside his head … to get a snapshot of his thoughts.
“Here,” I say, throwing the blanket down to clear a spot in the long grass. Dad doesn’t get out here to mow often.
“I’m okay,” he replies as I sit down, resting back on my elbows. The warm sun beats down on my pale legs, but I can’t complain because this is what summer on the farm is all about.
“Blake, I need you to say something. I may not like what you’re about to say, but silence is worse,” I admit.
“Do you ever wonder if you really control any part of your life?” he asks, throwing a long piece of grass into the creek.
I’m not sure where he’s going, but I play anyway. “I think our lives are ours to live. Things we don’t plan for are simply obstacles.”
“I didn’t want to get married at such a young age, but with her I just knew. She made me want to be better without even asking. My job was to protect her—make sure she had everything she needed—but I couldn’t even do that. I didn’t chose to live without her, and sometimes when things are really bad, I go to the studio and pretend she’s still at home waiting for me.”
My heart hammers as I wait for him to start talking again. I wonder if he feels it, or if he feels it too much, and that’s why he can’t look at me. I’m waiting for the part where he tells me he can’t do this, and as much as I thought I was prepared for it, it’s going to crush me.