Chapter 14: First Ultrasound
718 Words
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*Thursday. 10:20am. Metropolitan Women's Hospital.*
The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and nervous energy.
I was clutching Adrian’s hand so hard my knuckles were white.
This was real.
This was happening.
“Zara Cole?” the nurse called.
Adrian stood up immediately.
He hadn’t let go of me since we got here.
“Ready?” he whispered.
“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “What if—”
“No ‘what ifs,’” he said. He pressed a kiss to my temple.
“We’re okay. Baby’s okay. We’re doing this together.”
The ultrasound room was dim.
Cold.
Dr. Patel smiled at us from behind the machine.
“Alright, let’s see your little one,” she said.
I laid back.
Adrian sat in the chair right next to me.
He took my hand and didn’t let go.
Cold gel on my stomach.
The wand pressed down.
And then—
`thump-thump. thump-thump. thump-thump.`
On the screen.
A flicker.
A tiny shape.
Arms. Legs. A head.
And that sound.
That fast, steady, impossibly brave sound.
Adrian inhaled sharply.
“Is that—”
“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Patel said, smiling.
“Strong. 162 beats per minute. Perfect.”
I started crying before I could stop myself.
Adrian didn’t say anything.
He just squeezed my hand.
And when I looked at him, his eyes were wet too.
“Can you see it?” Dr. Patel asked, pointing.
“That’s the head. Those are the arms.
And look—there’s the spine.”
It looked like nothing and everything.
Like a bean.
Like a miracle.
“Do we know—” I started.
“Too early for gender,” Dr. Patel said. “But everything looks healthy.
Due date is March 12th.”
March 12th.
Four months away.
Adrian leaned over.
Kissed my forehead.
Then he leaned down further.
Kissed my stomach, right above where the wand was.
“Hi,” he whispered. So soft only I could hear.
“I’m your dad. And I already love you so much.”
I lost it.
Full on sobbing.
Dr. Patel handed me tissues.
“You two are going to be great parents,” she said.
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*After. The parking lot.*
We sat in the car for 20 minutes.
Didn’t drive.
Just held the printed ultrasound photo between us.
Black and white.
Smudged.
Perfect.
Adrian traced the little shape with his thumb.
“Look at their hand,” he said. “It’s so small.”
“I know,” I whispered.
He looked up at me.
“I’ve closed billion dollar deals,” he said.
“I’ve owned companies. I’ve won. I’ve lost.
Nothing. Nothing has ever felt like this.”
I nodded. Couldn’t talk.
He set the photo on the dashboard.
Pulled me into him.
And we just sat there.
His arms around me.
My head on his chest.
The heartbeat still echoing in my ears.
“I’m terrified,” he admitted.
“Me too,” I said.
“Good,” he said. “Means it matters.”
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*That night. Penthouse.*
We framed the ultrasound.
Put it on the nightstand.
Dinner was forgotten.
We were too busy Googling baby names.
And nursery colors.
And whether golden retrievers are good with babies.
Adrian pulled up a spreadsheet.
“Okay. Baby budget,” he said, serious.
I threw a pillow at him.
“Stop being CEO for one night.”
He laughed. Pulled me into his lap.
“Fine. No spreadsheets.”
We sat in silence.
His hand resting on my stomach.
The city lights outside the window.
“You think they’ll have your eyes?” I asked.
“I hope they have your stubbornness,” he said.
“They’ll need it. With you as a dad.”
He kissed me.
Long.
Deep.
Like he was memorizing me.
“I was so empty before you,” he said against my lips.
“I didn’t know I could feel like this.
Like... full. Like home.”
I touched his face.
“You’re not empty anymore,” I said.
“You have us.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yeah. I have us.”
And for the first time in a long time,
The Cole penthouse didn’t feel big.
It felt like the exact right size.
For three.
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- Writer
