be beautiful. Still be your child. Just might need some extra help in life.”
“I know all about needing a little extra help, and Quinn knows all about giving it.” He squeezed her shoulder.
Quinn nodded slowly. This wasn’t nearly the same thing. “So, what do we need to do?”
“On Monday, I’d like you to come in and get you assigned to a normal OB-GYN. We’ll do a normal prenatal work up. I can answer any questions you have.” Anne walked over and grabbed both their hands. “In two weeks, we can do an amniocentesis. That’s a procedure that will let you know more definitively whether the baby has Down syndrome.”
Quinn squeezed Anne’s fingers. “Will the baby having Down syndrome or not make any difference in my pregnancy?”
“No, not at all. Your pregnancy will be completely normal, subject to all the good and bad parts of a pregnancy. Your baby will be born and cry and coo and poop just like every other baby regardless of whether he or she has Down syndrome or not.”
“Then why have the test?” Baby asked. “Is there anything in particular we need to prepare for that the results will give us?”
Anne pressed her lips together. “No. Generally, the test is just for your peace of mind, and in case you decided you didn’t want to go through with the pregnancy.”
Quinn reached out to pull Anne into a hug. “Thank you. You’ve carried a heavy burden this weekend, but I appreciate you telling us now rather than making us wait.”
“Just know that I support you no matter what you decide. And no one else in Oak Creek will know you’re pregnant unless you decide to tell them. They never need to know you were ever pregnant at all.”
Quinn, a little numb, nodded and grabbed Baby’s hand as they both turned to walk toward the car. She put her other hand over her belly.
She was pregnant.
Two weeks later
Baby curled his hand over his beloved sleeping wife’s belly. She was fifteen weeks pregnant. According to the books he’d read, books she’d helped teach him to read two years ago, the fetus was roughly the size of an orange.
Her belly was gently rounded, soft, not much different than the way it had always been. The way he loved.
She’d been to see Anne three times since the day they’d found out she was pregnant. According to the doctor, everything about the pregnancy seemed fine, and Anne had referred her to an OB-GYN. Both doctors had said Quinn’s hCG levels were right on target for Quinn’s due date.
Her due date if she decided to carry the pregnancy to term.
Today was the day of the amniocentesis. Quinn probably knew more about that test than most doctors did. She’d studied it, studied Down syndrome, looked at all the ways their lives would change if their child was afflicted.
Baby was doing his best to support Quinn in whatever way he could. He knew how her mind worked. Knew she needed to surround herself with as much information as possible in order to make a decision. To an outsider, it might look cold and calculated to consider their unborn child with such deliberate objectivity. Trying to decide the best course of action.
Baby already knew the best course of action. He’d known it the moment Anne had said Quinn was pregnant. The only thing that would have made a difference for him was if Anne had said the baby was jeopardizing Quinn’s life.
He reached down and whispered next to Quinn’s belly, “But you’re not, are you, tiny person?”
The child growing inside her was a part of both of them. Baby didn’t care how many extra chromosomes the little one had. He was prepared from the first moment to welcome him or her into their family.
But he knew his big-brained wife needed to work things through in her own way. And if she decided a child with this sort of special needs was more than she could handle...
Well, then she was about to be surprised by just how good of an academic he’d become. He had a plan. A way to assure Quinn that she would get the support she needed no matter what their child needed. He had charts and graphs and statistics, but most of all, he was ready to prove to her that she would be a wonderful mother no matter what.
And she would be.
No matter what.
He felt her fingers slip into his hair, scratching gently. “What you doing down there?”