boy or girl?
Juliet's lying on a table in the exam room of the clinic, paper gown pushed up as she tenses in anticipation of the cold gel being squirted on her stomach. She's holding John's hand with one of her own and clears her throat because she's already ready to cry. Because this should be James, and she feels bad, thinking about it that way. Because she loves John, and he's here, and he loves her too, and he loves the baby.
So as the screen comes up, she squeezes his hand in excitement, biting at her bottom lip. She listens to the heartbeat, not needing anyone to tell her that it's fine, measures the length of the fetus on her own, knowing it's perfect, and then she leans in, squinting.
"The baby's legs are crossed," she sighs, head falling back on the table. "Of course."
So as the screen comes up, she squeezes his hand in excitement, biting at her bottom lip. She listens to the heartbeat, not needing anyone to tell her that it's fine, measures the length of the fetus on her own, knowing it's perfect, and then she leans in, squinting.
"The baby's legs are crossed," she sighs, head falling back on the table. "Of course."