Marital Bitch (Men with Badges) - By Jc Emery Page 0,98

and hiccup. He kisses my forehead. We stay like that for a few more minutes before Brad pulls away. If we don't get a move on we're going to be late for our doctor's appointment with the OBGYN.

Slowly but surely, Brad helps me get my shoes on. The man is a great cop, but he's also a pretty darn good husband. And I'm just happy that his toe is all healed up. He sure is a damn baby when he's not feeling well.

I HATE THE OBGYN. Dr. Roth is a lovely woman, she really is; but damn it to hell, I don't think she's ever warmed her hands up before an exam. In addition, those plastic gloves she wears aren't exactly warm, either. So every exam I feel like I'm being poked and prodded by the ice cream man. It's unnerving. That wasn’t even the hard part, though. When Dr. Roth explained the increased risks associated with babies born to women my age, I freaked out and couldn’t breathe. Brad was able to eventually calm me down by telling Dr. Roth that we didn’t want to hear anymore.

This is our baby, will always be our baby, and we don’t give a damn what risks are associated with the pregnancy. Nothing is going to stop us from having our baby. And I loved him so much in that moment; I didn’t know what to do with myself. Dr. Roth has tried to do her duty as my doctor to prepare us for the big, scary stuff. But neither of us want to hear it. This baby is wanted and loved and for us, that’s all that matters.

"Hold still, Mrs. Patrick," Dr. Roth says gently. She's spreading that damn goo all over my stomach again. The thing is that even after she cleans it off, I can still feel it on there, like a film that won't go away.

"Yeah, quit squirming, pretty girl," Brad shoots me the eye. He's standing beside me, holding my hand. We're having an ultrasound today that should tell us if we're having a Margot or a Madison—Madison being a boy. My name choices, not his.

"It's cold," I whine and bat my eyes at him, like there's something he can do. He rolls his eyes.

"Suck it up, you baby," he smirks down at me and my pouting face. After we had our big 'I love you' moment, I thought I'd have more sway with him. I thought maybe batting my eyes would be the golden ticket to getting my way. In reality, I don't have any more sway than I did before. I still have a lot, but I'd been hoping for more. Lindsay tells me that I'm power hungry.

Dr. Roth takes the wand from the ultrasound machine and holds it inches above my belly. "Are we ready to find out what we're having?"

"Hell yes," Brad grins. We're at our sixteen-week check-up. During the last ultrasound we couldn't tell the baby's sex and there was some initial concern about the amount of weight I've put on. Apparently, at sixteen weeks, my body has managed to gain all I'm supposed to gain for the entire duration of this pregnancy. Brad tried to comfort me by assuring me that it was our son's boy parts that are causing the excessive weight gain. He's assuming we're having a boy—either that, he says, or we're having one chubby girl. He's a jackass, but he's my jackass.

Dr. Roth brings the wand down to my belly and starts to move it around. We can hear the baby's heart beating. It sounds really fast, but Dr. Roth says that it's normal.

The image on the screen is a little fuzzy, making it difficult to see my baby. Despite the weight gain, despite the cold goo on my belly, despite everything, this is my baby and he or she is the reason we're here. All I want is to see my baby.

"This," Dr. Roth points to a bean-shaped object, "is your baby." I stare at it for what feels like several minutes. Brad is silent. The only reason I know he's still in the room is because he's holding my hand. I can't take my eyes off the screen.

The little bean moves and the whole screen looks like it's sloshing around. I blink a few times and squint at the screen. Now I'm seeing two beans. My gut reaction is that I've got a deformed baby and it has two heads. I automatically begin to worry about