“Okay, you two, let’s meet your baby,” Dr. Adams said excitedly.
When the time came for the sonogram, I swear I’d never been more nervous for anything in my life. The doc inserted a long camera-looking thing inside my girl and she gripped onto my hand, squeezing it like a vise as I pressed kisses along her fingers.
When a tiny picture appeared on the screen beside Molly’s head, all the breath left my body. I felt Molly stiffen and once again tighten her grip on my hand, but I couldn’t speak. I don’t know what the hell happened in that moment, but the stark realization that what I was looking at was a baby my girl and I created was life changing.
I loved Molly more than anything and often wondered if anything else in my life would ever come close to how I felt for her, but seeing our baby, hearing its tiny heartbeat, I realized I could love another in an entirely different way. The man who never thought he would ever love anyone, was incapable of such an emotion, right here in this room held the hand of the woman who’d not only opened his eyes and heart, but was also gifting him with the perfect unison of us both: a child.
Feeling wetness on my cheek, I realized I was crying, and for the first time ever, it was in happiness.
“Everything looks great and it measures as though you are… about… ah… about eight weeks along,” Dr. Adams said, interrupting my fixation on the screen.
Seven months. In seven months we would have a little one of our own.
Dr. Adams passed Molly a picture of the sonogram, and standing up, I kissed her head, watching her staring, disbelieving, at our little angel. Turning to me, she smiled and placed the Polaroid on the bed beside her. She got that I was spellbound by everything happening lately, and as always, she put me first, knowing I needed to see that picture. It was the security that my life was now infinitely better.
“You can get dressed now, Molly, and we’ll see you again in about two months unless you experience any of the problems we discussed. If so, you need to come straight back.” High blood pressure, dizziness, extreme swelling, severe headaches, abdominal pain, blurred vision… Fuck me, the list seemed endless. I knew I’d become an overbearing dick, but shit, there was no way I was losing the two most precious things in my life. I’d never forgive myself if I did.
“Can we find out the sex, then?” Molly asked quietly.
“Hopefully,” the doctor replied and slapped my back, forcing me to look up from the tiny image of our baby. “Congratulations, son, I’ll see you at the championship in Georgia and Roll Tide!”
“Roll Tide,” I croaked out.
Dr. Adams left, and Molly put the picture in my hand before shuffling to get off the bed.
As I watched her contented face, a small, happy smile still there on her lips, I just needed to hold her. Picking her up in my arms, I crushed her to my chest, just breathing in her vanilla scent.
“Romeo what—” she asked.
“Thank you, Mol. Just… thank you…” I said and, wrapping her hands around my neck in response, she whispered, “Thank you, too.”
An hour later, we were back in Molly’s room and I ran her a bath. I took advantage of the time alone and went back out to my truck, retrieving the gift, and laid the white box on the bed.
A short while later, the bathroom door creaked open and Molly came out in my favorite purple nightdress. She looked beautiful with her long, wet hair hanging low and her glasses firmly on her nose. She frowned when she caught sight of the box.
“What’s that?”
“A present,” I answered proudly. Molly eyed me skeptically and moved to the bed, sitting down beside me.
“What is it?” she asked, running her finger over the lid.
“Open it.”
Shaking her head and giggling, she opened the box slowly, so delicately that I felt like ripping it open for her. My heart sank when I realized she probably hadn’t been given gifts too often, and I made a mental note to rectify that fact.
Peeling back the white tissue paper, her hand went to her mouth. “Rome…”
“What do you think?” I asked, seeing the tears in her eyes.
She loved it.
Lifting the tiny Tide jersey from the box, she studied the front, then turned it around, whispering, “Prince, number seven.”
“I know it’s apparently bad luck before the end of the first trimester to buy things, you know, because things are still fragile, but I thought one small gift wouldn’t hurt.”
Pressing the tiny crimson jersey to her chest, she looked up at me and crawled forward, leaning down and kissing me softly on my lips.
Breaking away and studying the jersey once more, she looked me dead in the eyes and whispered, “We’re going to be parents, Rome…”
Smiling, I tackled her gently to the bed, tapping her nose. “Damn good ones too… and I can’t f**kin’ wait.”
Losing her smile, she stared down at the bed and asked, “Seattle?”
My heart faltered. “Maybe.” Lifting her chin with my finger, I said, “Hey, look at me.” She did as I asked and I said, “You’re used to rain, right, you know, being from England?”
Cracking a smile, she blushed, saying, “Romeo Prince, are you asking me to come to Seattle with you?”
“I’m asking you to come with me wherever I get drafted. It’s you and me, baby.”
Tilting her head, she corrected, “No, it’s you, me, and our angel.”
When the time came for the sonogram, I swear I’d never been more nervous for anything in my life. The doc inserted a long camera-looking thing inside my girl and she gripped onto my hand, squeezing it like a vise as I pressed kisses along her fingers.
When a tiny picture appeared on the screen beside Molly’s head, all the breath left my body. I felt Molly stiffen and once again tighten her grip on my hand, but I couldn’t speak. I don’t know what the hell happened in that moment, but the stark realization that what I was looking at was a baby my girl and I created was life changing.
I loved Molly more than anything and often wondered if anything else in my life would ever come close to how I felt for her, but seeing our baby, hearing its tiny heartbeat, I realized I could love another in an entirely different way. The man who never thought he would ever love anyone, was incapable of such an emotion, right here in this room held the hand of the woman who’d not only opened his eyes and heart, but was also gifting him with the perfect unison of us both: a child.
Feeling wetness on my cheek, I realized I was crying, and for the first time ever, it was in happiness.
“Everything looks great and it measures as though you are… about… ah… about eight weeks along,” Dr. Adams said, interrupting my fixation on the screen.
Seven months. In seven months we would have a little one of our own.
Dr. Adams passed Molly a picture of the sonogram, and standing up, I kissed her head, watching her staring, disbelieving, at our little angel. Turning to me, she smiled and placed the Polaroid on the bed beside her. She got that I was spellbound by everything happening lately, and as always, she put me first, knowing I needed to see that picture. It was the security that my life was now infinitely better.
“You can get dressed now, Molly, and we’ll see you again in about two months unless you experience any of the problems we discussed. If so, you need to come straight back.” High blood pressure, dizziness, extreme swelling, severe headaches, abdominal pain, blurred vision… Fuck me, the list seemed endless. I knew I’d become an overbearing dick, but shit, there was no way I was losing the two most precious things in my life. I’d never forgive myself if I did.
“Can we find out the sex, then?” Molly asked quietly.
“Hopefully,” the doctor replied and slapped my back, forcing me to look up from the tiny image of our baby. “Congratulations, son, I’ll see you at the championship in Georgia and Roll Tide!”
“Roll Tide,” I croaked out.
Dr. Adams left, and Molly put the picture in my hand before shuffling to get off the bed.
As I watched her contented face, a small, happy smile still there on her lips, I just needed to hold her. Picking her up in my arms, I crushed her to my chest, just breathing in her vanilla scent.
“Romeo what—” she asked.
“Thank you, Mol. Just… thank you…” I said and, wrapping her hands around my neck in response, she whispered, “Thank you, too.”
An hour later, we were back in Molly’s room and I ran her a bath. I took advantage of the time alone and went back out to my truck, retrieving the gift, and laid the white box on the bed.
A short while later, the bathroom door creaked open and Molly came out in my favorite purple nightdress. She looked beautiful with her long, wet hair hanging low and her glasses firmly on her nose. She frowned when she caught sight of the box.
“What’s that?”
“A present,” I answered proudly. Molly eyed me skeptically and moved to the bed, sitting down beside me.
“What is it?” she asked, running her finger over the lid.
“Open it.”
Shaking her head and giggling, she opened the box slowly, so delicately that I felt like ripping it open for her. My heart sank when I realized she probably hadn’t been given gifts too often, and I made a mental note to rectify that fact.
Peeling back the white tissue paper, her hand went to her mouth. “Rome…”
“What do you think?” I asked, seeing the tears in her eyes.
She loved it.
Lifting the tiny Tide jersey from the box, she studied the front, then turned it around, whispering, “Prince, number seven.”
“I know it’s apparently bad luck before the end of the first trimester to buy things, you know, because things are still fragile, but I thought one small gift wouldn’t hurt.”
Pressing the tiny crimson jersey to her chest, she looked up at me and crawled forward, leaning down and kissing me softly on my lips.
Breaking away and studying the jersey once more, she looked me dead in the eyes and whispered, “We’re going to be parents, Rome…”
Smiling, I tackled her gently to the bed, tapping her nose. “Damn good ones too… and I can’t f**kin’ wait.”
Losing her smile, she stared down at the bed and asked, “Seattle?”
My heart faltered. “Maybe.” Lifting her chin with my finger, I said, “Hey, look at me.” She did as I asked and I said, “You’re used to rain, right, you know, being from England?”
Cracking a smile, she blushed, saying, “Romeo Prince, are you asking me to come to Seattle with you?”
“I’m asking you to come with me wherever I get drafted. It’s you and me, baby.”
Tilting her head, she corrected, “No, it’s you, me, and our angel.”
