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PARIS SWIFT-KELCE
I'm lying on the exam table, my hand resting over my abdomen as another fluttery kick makes me smile. My mom and dad are in the room, and though it's not something I expected to happen when I first found out I was pregnant, I'm glad they're here. Dad had insisted on coming—he's been so excited about this baby, probably even more than me at times.

"The baby is kicking again," I say with a small chuckle, feeling the now-familiar sensation.

"They seem to kick a lot. Jeez," my dad comments, leaning forward as if trying to catch a glimpse of something only I can feel.

"It's a good thing," I reassure him, my voice soft as I rub my hand over the spot. "The baby's just practicing for the outside world. Kicking and moving helps expand the lungs. It promotes growth and development."

My mom gives me a knowing smile, standing beside the bed, her hand resting on my shoulder. "London was the same way. Always moving, always kicking." She lets out a quiet laugh. "He even gave me a scare a few times, but I could feel him getting stronger."

The technician enters the room with a warm smile and clipboard in hand, asking a few routine questions about how I've been feeling and whether I've experienced any unusual symptoms. I answer her easily, trying to shake off the nerves bubbling under my skin.

"Alright, let's take a look at that baby," she says, rolling over a cart with the ultrasound machine. I lift my shirt, exposing the visible bump, and brace myself for the cold gel. She squeezes it onto my skin, the coolness making me jump just a little.

"Sorry, always a bit of a shock," she says with a chuckle, placing the transducer over my abdomen. She moves it slowly, her eyes scanning the screen, and within seconds, the grainy black-and-white image of my baby appears. I feel an overwhelming rush of emotion seeing the little form on the screen—tiny, yet so full of life.

"There's your little one," the technician says with a smile, angling the monitor so my parents and I can see. My heart swells as I feel another gentle kick, perfectly timed with the image on the screen.

The room fills with a quiet, almost reverent anticipation as the technician moves the transducer over the screen again. I keep my eyes on the image, feeling a growing connection with every shift and movement.

"Can you go back to my placenta?" I ask, wanting to double-check its positioning.

"Of course," the technician responds, guiding the transducer back. I study the screen carefully, nodding when I see what I was looking for. "Thank you."

As she continues, she suddenly pauses on one specific spot. My heart skips as I recognize what she's showing me, and a smile spreads across my face, wide and full of joy.

My mom notices the change in my expression immediately. "What is it?" she asks, her voice soft but eager.

I stay focused on the screen, captivated by the tiny life growing inside me. My voice softens, almost instinctively, as I say, "Hi, baby girl." A smile tugs at my lips, and for a moment, I forget everyone else in the room.

The technician breaks the silence, curious. "You're a doctor, I'm guessing?"

Before I can respond, my mom chimes in, "She's a biomedical engineer."

I glance at the technician and nod, the excitement bubbling up again. She points back at the screen. "Well, you're right. It's a girl."

The room is silent for a beat, then filled with an outpouring of excitement as my parents process the news. My mom gasps softly, tears welling up in her eyes, while my dad beams proudly.

The Ex-Husband of Alice LangleyWhere stories live. Discover now