It was all going to be perfect.
As they sat in the waiting room, he scanned the photos on the bulletin board wall. These weren’t the whining drool and poop machines he’d considered them to be most of his adult life. They were angels, all perfect angels, and soon they would have one of their own.
They were called into the exam room. The nurse practitioner asked her some questions, then took her weight and her blood pressure.
“One hundred twenty over eighty. Perfect!”
They held hands as they were led into another room, the one they had been anticipating since they made the appointment.
“Ready to see your baby?” the ultrasound technician asked.
The tech passed the scanner over her body, typing in data and measurements into the system. They watched along on a large flat screen on the wall. Their excitement was perfectly palpable.
The tech settled on an image.
“This dark area is the placental sac,” the tech explained with the perfect poise of an expert guide, “and this circle is the yolk sac.”
It was a perfect circle. Of course! How could it be anything else? And just below the circle was the bean. The bean which, according to the book they were reading, would be the size of a raspberry, but on the large monitor looked like two handfuls already. The bean looked perfect.
And the bean was lying perfectly still.
“I’m sorry,” the tech said, “but I can’t detect a heartbeat.”