Day 27 - Saturday December 21st 2013
"Rosalie, you here?" I call into the spice shop as I hang up my coat.
"Yeah I'm in the back."
"Monroe said you have something for me?" I pick up a bag of dried pink flowers, I think it's a new item.
"I do, come on back."
"What is it?" I ask, rounding the front counter.
"Something you need."
"Oh boy-"
"Tada!" Rosalie shouts when I enter the back room, arms gesturing to a line of medical equipment set up along the back wall.
"Uhh...what-"
"This one is for you specifically. Monitor your blood pressure, heart rate and O2 levels. Then we have an ultrasound and a fetal monitor."
"Rosalie." Theres a lump in my throat, "Thank you."
"Well there are perks to dating a doctor. Come on, you want to try it out don't you?" She holds up the wand to the ultrasound.
"Oh hell yes!"
That's how I end up shirtless on her antique chaise, cool gel smeared across my stomach with Rosalie manning the ultrasound wand and both of us watching the screen expectantly.
"Oh look! A foot!" Rosalie points at the screen with her free hand, the other moving the wand to get a better picture. "There's the other one."
"Oh my god." My heart is pounding.
"Wait..."
"What? Is something wrong?" I turn to look at her.
"No, no. you said you were about four weeks right? No way you could be further along?"
"No. It was our first time, my first time. What is it?"
"These two look closer to twenty weeks or what would, for you, be ten weeks. Nick for some reason you seem to be progressing at twice the rate of what would be considered normal for you."
I had hardly heard the majority of what she had said. My brain only focuses on one thing.
"Two?" I grasp Rosalies free hand, "There's two?"
"Yes Nick but did you hear me? Ten weeks. You're supposed to be four weeks.
I tear my eyes away from the image on the screen to look soberly at the fuschbau.
"Are they healthy?"
"Yes."
"That's all I care about."
She smiles at me, "They're healthy. But I want to monitor you more closely now. Do you want to know their genders? You're far enough along."
"No, that can wait until after Christmas."
"Alright." She presses a few buttons on the machine and it spits out a handful of images. She hands me tissues to clean off my stomach.
I pull on my shirt and Rosalie hands me the black and white pictures of my two unborn children. They lie tip to toe, knees pulled up, hands curled into little fists.
"Oh, Rosalie, they're perfect."
"They are. Congratulations. Now I think I promised you some shopping.
I laugh, "You did."