The ultrasound isn’t pleasant but at least it’s quick—and no one goes uh-oh while looking at the screen.

“This looks very healthy,” Dr. Tremain announces when we’re done. She says I have an “average-to-good” follicle count for a woman in my age bracket and that, pending bloodwork results, she would say I’m an excellent candidate for IVF.

Excellent candidate, I can hear Oliver’s wry voice in my head saying. It’s hardly the Ivy League.

“Share those brochures with your partner,” Dr. Tremain says. “And have him come by when he’s able. Then we can go from there. I’m sure he’ll have questions of his own.”

After she’s gone I take my time in the examination room, slowly sliding my feet back into my shoes. I shoulder my coat on, and head back out into the waiting area to settle up for today’s visit. In the car outside, my body feels light and strange, like it’s not yet fully my own again. But there’s also a kindling sense of hope: I’m healthy, I’m “normal,” I’m an excellent candidate. I brush my hair back from my damp forehead and start the engine. Then a new worry burrows into my momentary relief.

What if Oliver’s not a “good candidate”?

What if it’s him? What then?

I start the car and turn onto the road.

Don’t meet trouble halfway, Gillian, I tell myself.

Needless to say, the pep talk doesn’t work.

*

“Hey, Gillian!” Jeff calls from the kitchen as Dinah ushers me indoors.

“The kids are downstairs,” Dinah says. “I let them bring sandwiches down to the basement for lunch. Apparently Sam’s an Xbox fan.”

Jeff and Dinah had some big anniversary this year, and Jeff’s present was an Xbox; Dinah’s was that DNA kit. Oliver kept joking it was grounds for divorce, but it turned out Dinah thought it was a great gift.

“Sam will be thrilled,” I say. “He has an Xbox back home that he’s been missing.”

Dinah gives me a slight smile, since we both know that’s not really what Sam’s been missing.

She walks me into the living room.

“Did your appointment go okay?”

I nod. Behind the words, her eyes are asking something different: Are you okay? I wonder if she suspects the doctor’s appointment wasn’t just the usual kind. If it had been a week ago, I’d have told her everything. Now, though, it all feels too raw.

“Fine,” I say. “Seems like I’m in pretty good shape.”

Knock on wood.

I hesitate. This is hard. “How are you doing?” I say. “I mean, the pregnancy. How are you feeling?”

She flushes, not quite meeting my eyes.

“Okay. I’m…a little nervous, honestly. It’s been a while.”