---
Elkanah had two wives, one named Hannah, the other Peninnah; Peninnah had children, but Hannah was childless. This man regularly went on pilgrimage from his city to worship the Lord of hosts and to sacrifice to him at Shiloh. When the day came for Elkanah to offer sacrifice, he used to give a portion each to his wife Peninnah and to all her sons and daughters, but a double portion to Hannah because he loved her, though the Lord had made her barren. Her rival, to upset her, turned it into a constant reproach to her that the Lord had left her barren. This went on year after year; each time they made their pilgrimage to the sanctuary of the Lord, Peninnah would approach her, and Hannah would weep and refuse to eat. Her husband Elkanah used to ask her: "Hannah, why do you weep, and why do you refuse to eat? Why do you grieve? Am I not more to you than ten sons?"
The First Book of Samuel, 1:8
Hannah ran her hand slowly over her belly.
"There's... nothing wrong?" she murmured. Dr. Pritchard shook his head with a smile.
"No, Miss Colby," he said cheerfully. "Everything checks out perfectly. You can have your Ultrasound in a week or so." Hannah tried not to wince and failed. The doctor noticed. "Are you feeling all right, Miss Colby?"
"Fine," she said, a little too quickly. "The baby... he's kicking." Dr. Pritchard scratched his eyebrow idly and glanced up from his clipboard.
"You've decided it's a boy, have you?" Hannah moved her palm over her bulge of a stomach again and was surprised to feel a dry smile turn up the corners of her mouth.
"Call it maternal instinct," she said softly. Dr. Pritchard's face flowed easily into a warm smile.
"Well, feel free to contact me if you think anything's wrong," he said pleasantly, extending a hand to help her from the table. Hannah wobbled a little with the uneasy weight and ended up gripping the sterile white counter for support.
"Thank you, doctor," she murmured, and headed for the door with slow, careful steps. The bulge before her was still such a trial.
"Miss Colby," Dr. Pritchard said tentatively, "were you... expecting something to be wrong?"
("Don't be scared.")
Hannah lingered by the doorway. She could see Rachel seated in the waiting room, flipping uninterestedly through a tattered issue of People magazine.
("After all... we were destined.")
Rachel had signifigantly more worry lines on her face than Hannah noticed nine months ago.
("First son and first daughter was MY prophecy, and it was fulfilled!")
"Miss Colby?" Dr. Pritchard repeated.
"Not expecting," Hannah whispered, hand tightening around the doorknob. "Only hoping."