Chapter 90 The First Ultrasound

Chapter 90 The First Ultrasound


Harper woke at 2 AM to Sebastian talking to her stomach.

"—and your mom thinks I'm being ridiculous about the bookshelf, but presentation matters. First impressions matter. You want to grow up surrounded by beautiful things, right? Of course you do. You're a Colton. Well, half Colton. The better half is definitely Whitmore—"

"Are you seriously having this conversation at two in the morning?" Harper's voice was groggy.

Sebastian looked up, unapologetic. "The baby's awake. I can feel them moving."

"The baby is always awake at two AM. They're preparing us for newborn life." Harper touched her thirty-four-week bump. "What were you saying about the bookshelf?"

"That it's perfect and you were wrong to question my vision."

"I said it was fine. You're the one who returned it three times."

"Because fine isn't good enough for our child's library." Sebastian kissed her stomach. "You deserve the best, little one. Even if your mother has pedestrian taste in furniture."

Harper kicked him lightly. "Go back to sleep."

"Can't. Too excited about the ultrasound today."

"That's in eight hours."

"Still excited." He propped himself up on his elbow. "This is the detailed anatomy scan. We'll see everything. Their face, their hands, their organs—"

"I know what an anatomy scan is, Sebastian. I've been pregnant for eight months."

"But this one's special. This is when we really see them. When they stop being just kicks and movements and become a person we can picture holding."

Harper felt her throat tighten. He was right. They'd seen ultrasounds before, but always blurry, ambiguous. Today would be different.

"Are you scared?" she asked quietly.

"Terrified. What if something's wrong? What if we've missed something?" Sebastian's hand splayed across her bump. "I know the previous scans were good, but—"

"But you're a worrier. I know." Harper covered his hand with hers. "They're fine. I can feel it. They're strong and stubborn and definitely yours based on how much they kick me when I try to sleep."

"Or yours, based on how much they seem to hate any schedule or routine."

"Fair." Harper yawned. "Can we sleep now? Please?"

Sebastian kissed her forehead, then her bump. "Sleep, both of you. I'll keep watch."

"That's not how sleep works."

"I'll try."

Harper closed her eyes, but she could feel Sebastian's wakefulness beside her. His hand never left her stomach, and she knew he was lying there imagining their baby, worrying about all the things that could go wrong, hoping for all the things that could go right.

She fell back asleep to the steady rhythm of his breathing and their baby's kicks.

\---

At the ultrasound clinic, Harper was nervous in a way she hadn't been at previous appointments. This felt different. More real. More final.

The technician, a cheerful woman named Maria, squeezed gel on Harper's exposed belly. "Okay, let's see this baby. How far along are you?"

"Thirty-four weeks," Sebastian answered before Harper could. "Due in six weeks but could come anytime in the next month, right? That's considered full term?"

"Technically thirty-seven weeks is full term, but thirty-four is good. Baby would be in NICU for a bit if born now, but prognosis is excellent at this stage." Maria moved the wand, and the screen filled with grainy black and white images. "There's your baby. Looking good. Strong heartbeat."

Harper stared at the screen. Their baby. Actually visible. Not just blobs and measurements but features. A profile.

"Oh," she breathed.

Sebastian's hand crushed hers. "Is that—is that their face?"

"Sure is. Good-looking kid." Maria clicked buttons, taking measurements. "Let's check all the major organs. Heart looks perfect. Four chambers, nice strong beat. Lungs developing well. Kidneys look great. Stomach, liver, all good."

She continued through her checklist while Harper and Sebastian watched, mesmerized. Their baby. Moving, living, growing.

"Do you want to know the sex?" Maria asked. "Sometimes babies cooperate at this stage, sometimes not."

Harper and Sebastian looked at each other. They'd planned to be surprised, but now, seeing their baby so clearly—

"No," Harper said. "We want to wait."

"Actually—" Sebastian started.

"No," Harper repeated firmly. "We agreed. Surprise."

"We agreed when it was abstract. Now it's real. Don't you want to know? To plan?"

"We've planned everything else. Let this be the one surprise." Harper squeezed his hand. "Please?"

Sebastian looked at the screen, at their baby's profile, then back at Harper. "Okay. Surprise."

Maria smiled. "Surprise it is. Though this little one is not being subtle. They're making it very obvious if you change your mind."

"We won't," Harper and Sebastian said in unison.

Maria printed out several photos. "Your baby is measuring right on track. Estimated weight is about five pounds. Should be around seven or eight pounds at birth if you go full term. Everything looks perfectly healthy."

"Everything?" Sebastian's voice was tight with barely contained emotion.

"Everything. You've got a beautiful, healthy baby in there." Maria handed them the photos. "See you in two weeks for your next check."

In the car, Sebastian stared at the ultrasound photos like they were precious artifacts. "Look at their nose. They have a nose."

"Most babies do."

"But this is our baby's nose. Our baby's face." His voice cracked. "They're real, Harper."

"They've been real for eight months."

"I know, but—" He looked at her with wet eyes. "Seeing them like that. So clearly. It just hit me. In six weeks, give or take, we're going to meet them. Hold them. See this face in person."

Harper felt her own tears starting. Damn hormones. "I'm scared."

"Me too."

"What if we're not ready? What if we mess this up?"

"We'll mess it up spectacularly." Sebastian set the photos carefully in the center console and took both her hands. "But we'll love them through it. And we'll keep trying. That's all we can do."

"What if I can't do this? Labor, I mean. What if I panic or freeze or—"

"Then I'll be right there. Holding your hand. Telling you you're the strongest person I know. Reminding you that you've survived everything else." He kissed her knuckles. "You've got this."

"We've got this," Harper corrected.

"We've got this."

They sat in the parking lot, holding hands, looking at photos of a baby they hadn't met but already loved more than they thought possible.

Harper's phone buzzed. Jessie: How'd the ultrasound go? Is baby cooperating?

Harper sent back the clearest profile photo. Jessie's response was immediate: OH MY GOD I'M CRYING. THEY'RE SO BEAUTIFUL. I WANT TO MEET THEM RIGHT NOW.

Six more weeks.

TOO LONG. Tell them to come early.

Harper laughed, showing Sebastian the texts. He smiled, already texting Claire the photos.

"Everyone's going to cry," Harper predicted.

"Everyone should cry. Look at them." Sebastian zoomed in on the profile. "That's our kid. Our baby. The person we made."

"The person we made while fulfilling a contract marriage."

"The person we made while falling in love," Sebastian corrected. "The contract was just the excuse."

Harper looked at the photo again. Their baby. Six more weeks of being kicked from the inside. Six more weeks of pregnancy insomnia and heartburn and Sebastian's obsessive planning. And then—

Everything would change.

"I'm not ready," she whispered.

"Neither am I." Sebastian started the car. "But ready or not, they're coming. So we better finish that nursery."

"It's been done for three weeks."

"The bookshelf arrived yesterday. We need to assemble it."

"Of course we do." Harper smiled despite her anxiety. "Take me home. Let's build a bookshelf for a baby we haven't met yet."

"Best idea you've had all day."

They drove home through midday traffic, ultrasound photos between them like a promise. A preview of the person about to turn their world upside down.

At home, Sebastian assembled the bookshelf with military precision while Harper sorted through the collection of children's books Claire had been buying for months.

"Where the Wild Things Are," Harper read aloud. "Good choice."

"Classic." Sebastian tightened a screw. "I was thinking we could read to the baby. Starting now. So they know our voices."

"You already talk to my stomach constantly."

"That's different. That's just me rambling. This would be structured. Educational."

"They're still in the womb."

"Exactly. Prime learning time." Sebastian finished the bookshelf and stepped back. "There. Perfect."

It was perfect. White wood, clean lines, already filled with books waiting to be read. Harper touched the spines gently.

"They're going to love these," she said.

"How do you know?"

"Because we'll read them together. As a family. That's all that matters."

Sebastian pulled her close, careful of her bump. "Six more weeks."

"Six more weeks."

"Then everything changes."

"Everything already changed," Harper said, looking around the nursery they'd built together. The cream walls, the carefully chosen furniture, the mobile that Sebastian had insisted would provide optimal visual stimulation.

This room that had been empty and full of potential was now ready. Waiting. Just like them.

"Ready or not," Sebastian whispered, "here they come."

Harper pressed her hand to her bump, feeling a strong kick in response.

"Ready or not," she agreed.

Their baby kicked again, as if agreeing.

Six more weeks until they'd meet the person who'd brought them together.

Six more weeks until their family was complete.

Six more weeks until everything they thought they knew about love expanded beyond recognition.

Harper looked at the ultrasound photo again, at the tiny profile that would soon be a face she'd kiss goodnight.

"Hi, baby," she whispered. "We're so excited to meet you. We're terrified, but we're excited. And we love you so much already."

Sebastian's hand covered hers on her bump. "What Mom said. Times a milli
on."

The baby kicked once more, strongly enough that they both felt it.

A conversation. A promise. A beginning.

Six more weeks.

They could do this.

They had to do this.

Their baby was coming.

Ready or not.