Songbird ; Fred Weasley

Thirty-four

Something about the sky has always intrigued me.

Even when I was little, I loved laying outside, staring up at the blue sky and the white clouds.

Or the grey clouds.

At night I loved to watch the stars.

It was a way of calming down when I was upset. It turned into a habit, and now I do it every chance I get.

Which takes me to now, sitting on a bench outside of the clinic with Fred by my side, my head leaned back against the brick wall and my eyes focused on the bright blue sky.

Fred's eyes were glued to me, trying to figure out what I was feeling after our first prenatal visit at the clinic.

He was holding the ultrasound pictures that we weren't prepared to be handed. I thought we came here simply to talk options, but then she wanted to do an ultrasound and she handed us photos.

It was as if she was trying to make the decision for us. She handed us proof of life happening in my womb.

It was a long visit, and the whole time, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

We talked about my medical history, my mental health history, gynaecological history, obstetrical history and potential disease exposure

I was fine on most of those, but I do have diabetes. I had to be more careful with my glucose levels. I had to check them a lot more.

We also had to talk about medication with the doctor. What kind of insulin I take, or if I take anything else, which was a no.

Then I had a check-up. She checked my heart, lungs, my fucking tits. She measured my blood pressure. She noted my height and my weight and I noticed I had gained a few pounds which caused me to sulk a little.

She had to check my uterus, meaning I had to lay there with my legs spread open and my underwear gone.

I was horrified, but Fred stayed by my side, talking to me to try and take my mind off it. Somehow he could tell that I really hated it.

I had to do a urine test, blood work, a genetic carrier screening, STD tests, a Pap smear, and she also tested my blood sugars.

She calculated my due date to May twenty-second.

It felt like we had been in there for hours and hours.

I hadn't looked at the ultrasound pictures, but Fred had, though he didn't pressure me into looking at them.

"Look. It looks like a dog." I said, pointing to a cloud, and Fred followed my finger to where I pointed.

"Oh yeah." He chuckled, resting an arm on the back of the bench. "What breed would you say it looks like?"

I shrugged.

"Not a pug, that's for sure. Maybe a golden retriever?"

"Yeah?" I could sense the smile in his voice, as if he was just happy I was speaking.

I hadn't spoken since we left the clinic almost forty minutes ago.

"I like retrievers." He said, and I felt his fingers gently stroking my shoulder.

"Do you know there is six types of retrievers?" I asked. "The golden retriever. The Labrador retriever. The flat-coated retriever. The curly-coated retriever. The Chesapeake bay retriever, and the Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever."

I inhaled sharply, a smile playing on my lips.

"I love the last one. I love them as much as I love pugs."