Dr. Villanueva offered to tell me the s*x at nineteen weeks.
"Everything is visible now," she said. "If you want to know."
I lay on the examination table with the gel and the Doppler and the muffled certain sound of Sofia's heartbeat and I thought about it.
"Not yet," I said. "I want to wait."
"For what?" she said. Not pushily. Just the practical question.
"For the right moment," I said. "I want to find out with someone. Not alone."
She noted this in the compressed handwriting and said nothing further about it. That was what I valued about Dr. Villanueva: she asked the practical question and accepted the practical answer and did not require you to justify your emotional logic.
"Everything looks excellent," she said. "She is exactly where she should be."
I looked at the ceiling. "Sh
