Bernard's looking a little starry-eyed, himself; they really don't have anything like this with muggle technology in the 1970's, and he missed this part with Anthony. "--I think I see a... thing."
"Yes, yes, size looks marvellous. Right on target. There's the head, and that right there's an arm," he adds, pointing to a very tiny appendage. The image twitches, suddenly, and Nymphadora squeaks. Then she laughs.
"Tell what? The sex?" Durkin peers at the image, adjusting it again, and then gives it a considering nod. "I think I can, if you're sure you'd like to know."
The witch nods eagerly, and squeezes Bernard's hand.
It takes some doing, as far as Bernard can tell, and he doesn't know how Durkin can even say which way is up, but then the healer rocks back on his heels and points to a fuzzy bit of screen.
"Well, congratulations. Have you got a list of girl names written up?"
"She," echoes 'Dora, still beaming at the sonogram like her face will split open, still clinging to Bernard's hand. Then she laughs. "Oh, bugger. We can't agree on girl names at all."
"We'll have to pull one out of a hat," he laughs in reply, his forehead thunking against her shoulder fondly.
Durkin adjusts the stone again, looking for something only he knows. "...Well, this young lady looks very healthy indeed." His gaze flickers up to Nymphadora's face and down to her ankles. "And how is her mother?"
The smile fades a bit, but she hitches it back into place after a moment. "All right," replies Nymphadora lightly. "We've been cutting back on the salt, and that helped the water retension a bit."
At that, Durkin raises an eyebrow. "We didn't have this problem with young Anthony, did we?" He looks down to consult 'Dora's chart.
Durkin takes a deep breath before replying. "Essentially it's a hypertensive disorder that occurs during some pregnancies. All the symptoms Nymphadora is having are consistent with it, although I don't want to say anything definitive until we're able to run some further tests."
Her mouth suddenly dry, 'Dora has to try a couple of times before she can get the words out. "Well, then. Let's do them."
"Yes. Though," says Durkin, preparing to draw a vial of blood from Nymphadora's arm, "if we get a negative result, that doesn't mean we're in the clear. The protein we're looking for has a habit of disappearing and reappearing, so we'll just have to carry on with regular testing throughout the pregnancy."
He draws the blood, pressing a cotton swab to her inner elbow, and then spells out a bit of her amniotic fluid.
Watching him go, 'Dora looks down at her belly, at the slightly reddened spot where he cast the spell.
Well, it's a blob. What can you do?
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"I think somebody's a bit shy."
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The witch nods eagerly, and squeezes Bernard's hand.
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"Well, congratulations. Have you got a list of girl names written up?"
Bernard is speechless.
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Then her brain catches us to her mouth, and 'Dora yelps.
"Did you just say that it's a girl."
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Durkin adjusts the stone again, looking for something only he knows. "...Well, this young lady looks very healthy indeed." His gaze flickers up to Nymphadora's face and down to her ankles. "And how is her mother?"
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At that, Durkin raises an eyebrow. "We didn't have this problem with young Anthony, did we?" He looks down to consult 'Dora's chart.
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Durkin removes his spectacles and gazes at them.
"I'd like to run a test for something called preeclampsia."
The witch pales. "Wh-really? You mean--"
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Her mouth suddenly dry, 'Dora has to try a couple of times before she can get the words out. "Well, then. Let's do them."
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Chewing his lip, Bernard shifts in his seat. His free hand slips into his pocket to encounter... nothing.
He stopped carrying matches regularly some months ago.
He wishes he had them now.
"Will we have results today, or...?"
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He draws the blood, pressing a cotton swab to her inner elbow, and then spells out a bit of her amniotic fluid.
Watching him go, 'Dora looks down at her belly, at the slightly reddened spot where he cast the spell.
"That kinda tickled."
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