"They tell me I'm 10 weeks along, and the heartbeat is good-about 165 beats per minute," she smiles. "You know, they say the higher the heart rate, the more likely it is to be a girl."I stare at the black and white peanut of what is to be, of what is, my second child. Overcome with relief, I sit back in the chair, my thoughts now drifting to the cause of our visit.
"So what about your pain? Do they know what caused it?"The truth is, they couldn't know. The truth is, ER doctors aren't even trained to know. The truth is, this sojourned visit was almost over, and that is what mattered most.
Everything looks good," said the doctor. "We just need a couple of signatures, and you can go home."Home. The word we've wanted to hear since our arrival. The word that meant everything was okay. We gather our things and retire. The doctor thinks tylenol will make her more comfortable, but advises us to speak with the OB/GYN about the pain. It might be a very long, uncomfortable pregnancy--but it is still a pregnancy.
She waits. Still, she waits. Now, though, she waits with me. Together, we wait, for the next 32 weeks. Together, we wait for the future.