her eyes as the heartbeat faded away. The curtains barring entry to the small ultrasound room parted, and the tech traded places with Dr. Jenkins, who took the seat near the machine while a series of pictures printed from below. She replaced the transducer on Nina’s belly. The heartbeat returned.
“Yes, yes,” said the doctor. “Everything looks perfect.” She smiled warmly. “Would you like to know the sex?”
Nina blinked. She honestly hadn’t even thought about it, and Calvin, of course, was more interested in her changing body than the child that was causing it.
“I—oh, yes,” she found herself saying. “Yes, I suppose so.”
Dr. Jenkins sighed and stilled the transducer. The baby’s heartbeat remained audible, like it was squeezing the room with each hushed thump. Nina kept her eyes on the dark, beating spot in the center of the screen.
“Mrs. Gardner. Before we do that, I wanted to say—the baby is healthy…but I am concerned. You’re twenty weeks into this pregnancy, and you’ve gained maybe two pounds.”
Back to her toes went her gaze. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping trim,” Nina mumbled. Hadn’t her mother said so as soon as she heard the news?
“There is when it prevents your baby from flourishing, and that’s what I’m concerned about. By your third trimester, the baby may be putting on as much as a pound per week. That can’t happen if you’re not taking care of yourself.”
Nina didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure what else there was to say.
The doctor tried again. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with feeling however you feel. In fact, prenatal depression occurs in approximately fifteen to twenty percent of—”
“I am not depressed,” Nina interrupted with emphasis that surprised even her.
Lord, it was like Grandmother had spoken right through her, with a steel-sharp tone that brooked no alternative response. De Vrieses didn’t get depressed. Just like they didn’t get overweight, ugly, or emotive in any real way.
Dr. Jenkins tipped her head kindly. “Mrs. Gardner, no one can always control what your hormones are going to do at this time. There’s no shame in it. But I must ask—is everything all right at home? I have noticed your husband hasn’t accompanied you to any of your appointments.”
And there it was. The sad fact of Nina’s complete and utter solitude in all of this. Her friends couldn’t have been less interested in the fact that she could no longer join them at brunch spots and nightclubs. Her family was too busy hosting luncheons to inquire about her health. And her husband…
She bit back a bitter laugh along with a few tears.
“I’m from the Upper East Side, Dr. Jenkins,” Nina said, trying for a bit of levity. Failing miserably. “Our husbands often work more than eighty hours a week. Does it really surprise you that one of them isn’t particularly concerned with a child that hasn’t been born yet?”
The doctor just offered a sympathetic expression, then patted Nina gently on the knee and turned back to the screen. Nina tasted the sweet tang of blood when she bit her lip hard to stop from crying.
“I’d like you to eat more,” Dr. Jenkins was saying. “And I’m going to write you a referral to a very good therapist. Just in case you need someone to talk to. Otherwise, you could potentially take—”
“No medications,” Nina cut in, surprising herself again. Then, a bit softer: “They aren’t good for the baby.”
So that’s what maternal instinct feels like, she thought. It was strong, pulsing through her for the first time, right along with the baby’s heartbeat. She smiled, and this time, even through her heartache, it was genuine.
The doctor smiled back. “All right. But if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. That’s what I’m here for.”
Nina watched the fuzzy screen, where the baby’s heartbeat pulsed and the legs kicked in unison. “I’ll eat,” she said. “I promise.”
Dr. Jenkins nodded. “Good. Are you ready for the big reveal? Or are you doing something at home to celebrate?”
Nina stared at the screen, fully transfixed. There were its legs, its arms. The shape of a head that could fit in her palm, maybe even now. “Please,” she said. “Just tell me.”
The transducer moved a bit. Then a bit more. Dr. Jenkins craned her head, squinting to look more closely.
“Ah! There it is.” She turned to me. “Sometimes they don’t want to show us, you know.”
“What…what is it?” Nina asked uncertainly.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Gardner. You’re having a girl.”
A girl.
Like me.
For a moment, a bubble of jubilation filled Nina’s chest, her mind, her entire