Chapter Text
Shiv lay on the exam table, the thin paper crinkling every time her body tensed. Her heart pounded so loudly she was convinced it would drown out the baby’s on the monitor. She couldn’t stop her leg from jittering.
Sharon moved the transducer across her belly with practiced calm. The screen showed the baby turning in a slow, liquid roll—tiny limbs stretching like she had nothing in the world to worry about.
“Heart rate is strong and steady,” Sharon said. “Growth is right on track. Fluid levels are excellent. She’s doing beautifully, Siobhan.”
Shiv stared at the image without blinking. It looked perfect. Too perfect. That only made the dread coil tighter in her stomach.
“Something’s off,” she whispered.
Sharon lowered the wand slightly. “What specifically feels off to you?”
“I don’t know.” Shiv’s throat worked. “Less movement. Not none, but… different. Quieter. It doesn’t feel right. It feels wrong.”
“Some days are quieter this late in the third trimester, especially as the baby drops—”
“It’s not that.” Shiv’s voice cracked. She gripped the edge of the table, nails digging into the paper. “I know my body. I know the patterns. This isn’t normal. I just know it.”
She hated how desperate she sounded. Hated the clammy sweat on her palms and the way her chest kept tightening like her ribs were shrinking. Every beat of silence made her imagine the worst.
Sharon watched her with that careful, experienced gaze. “You’re carrying a lot of anxiety right now.”
“No shit,” Shiv muttered, then louder, “I want another ultrasound.”
“I did a full detailed scan ten days ago.”
“I don’t care. Do it again.” Her pulse roared in her ears. “The machine is right there. Please. I’m not asking for anything crazy, just turn it on.”
Sharon studied her a moment longer, then nodded. She performed the scan slowly and thoroughly, narrating every measurement in her steady voice. Shiv barely heard any of it. She kept hunting the screen for the shadow, the stillness, the proof that her instincts weren’t lying to her. Every small movement from the baby brought a wave of dizzying relief followed immediately by suspicion. What if it’s only moving now because we’re looking? What if something’s still wrong?
“She’s perfect,” Sharon said at last, freezing a clear profile of the baby’s face. “Everything looks exactly as it should.”
Shiv gave one tight nod, jaw locked so hard it hurt. The baby gave a lazy kick on screen, almost playful. Shiv still couldn’t let it go.
Sharon removed her gloves. “Your blood pressure has been elevated the last two visits. Not critical, but I’m monitoring it. Are you sleeping?”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
Sharon left the silence open. Shiv didn’t fill it. Admitting there was no external crisis made the fear feel heavier. It was all her. It was the constant, crawling terror that she was going to ruin the one thing she couldn’t afford to lose.
“The anxiety is real,” Sharon said gently. “I’m not dismissing it. But there’s only so much the scans can show you if you can’t let yourself believe them.”
Shiv stared at the frozen image—the delicate curve of spine, the impossibly small foot. A whole person she was terrified of failing.
“Can I record the heartbeat?” she asked, voice small.
Sharon softened and turned the volume up. The strong, rapid thump-thump-thump filled the room. Shiv held her phone with both hands, recording far longer than necessary. She needed proof she could replay at 3 a.m. when the doubts screamed loudest.