Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
I nod. Today, we’ll see our baby for the first time and learn if we’re having a boy or girl. I’m both anxious and excited to finally reach this point in my pregnancy. I think because of the IVF and knowing right away, it feels like getting to this point has taken forever.
“Well, you should get dressed,” he says. “I know how much you like looking at yourself in the mirror with no shirt on, but something tells me you don’t want anyone else looking at you this way.” Noah kisses the top of my head.
“It’s so hot out but I want to try and hide my bump for a bit longer.”
Noah heads into the closet and comes back with a dress. “What about this one?” He holds a long flowy dress in floral print by the hanger. “It doesn’t look form fitting.”
“No, we leave those to Elle.” Everyone knows she’s pregnant even though she won’t confirm it. Each time she posts a picture on her social media, you can see her bump. She’s not hiding it. This is one of those times I wish I were a bit more like her. Elle still finds a way to control the narrative, whereas I would cave and gush about the details.
“Are we posting today?” Noah asks as he takes the dress of the hanger and hands it to me.
“We can, but not the sex of the baby. I want the news to be a surprise to our family.”
Noah nods. “They’re all taking bets anyway. Paige says we’re having a girl. Mack says girl. Dad says boy. Mom says she doesn’t care, she just wants to hold the baby.”
“My dad wants a girl and my mom a boy.”
“What do you want?” he asks as he walks toward me.
I caress his cheek. “A healthy baby. I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl. When this is over, I just want to hold our baby in my arms and tell him or her how much they are loved.”
“Me, too.” He kisses me quickly. “Come on, we gotta go.”
Noah drives us to the doctor’s office. I have the window down, the music playing, and I’m enjoying the nice weather. Noah presses a button on the console and the song changes. Our dads’ voices come through the speakers. I roll my eyes.
“Seriously?”
“What?” he asks as if he doesn’t know what he’s done. “It’s their greatest hits. It hasn’t even been released yet.”
“And you’re what, giving them free promo as we drive down the Boulevard?”
Noah laughs and taps the steering wheel to the song playing. I can’t help but move along to the beat and recite the words. They’re not even my favorite band, and I still know all the words to their songs. He turns it up, likely to drown out my nasally sound, but I don’t care. I sing louder.
By the time we reach the office, the twelve-track compilation has finished and we’re both happily laughing at how silly we act sometimes.
While we’re walking in, Noah says, “I’m going to call my parents and tell them to get to town so we can tell them all at once.”
“Tell them to plan on tomorrow,” I say as I text my mom and tell her. “This way we have one night with the news before we have to share it.”
“And I can come up with the ultimate way to tell them. The whole we’re pregnant reveal was pretty kick ass if I do say so myself.”
“Yes, Noah. You totally slayed the reveal.” I roll my eyes and step out of reach as he tries to grab me and rush toward the elevator.
“Don’t run,” he yells down the hall. “You’ll give the baby a concussion.”
My mouth drops open as he approaches. “You know that’s not possible, right?”
He nods. “But it got you to stop running.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
The elevator door opens, and we wait for the people to step out. One does a double take when they pass by Noah, but I pull him in, press the button and then jam my finger against the close button. Normally, I don’t care except today.
Today, I want us to be expectant parents. I want my husband to be normal and to be treated as such.
In the office, I check in and then sit down. My bladder is full of the excess water I had to drink and I feel the need to squirm in my seat. My husband, though, stands and goes to the water fountain for a drink. And then another. Sometimes I want to berate him for acting like a child, but he doesn’t do it on purpose.
Noah brings me a cup of water. I shake my head.
“I’m not thirsty,” I tell him.
“Doctor said you should stay hydrated.”
“Believe me, I am. I drank a bunch for this appointment. A full bladder is required for this ultrasound.”