Dr. Ortega continued to run the portable ultrasound wand over Cali’s slightly distended belly. She was sixteen weeks now according to all the other ultrasounds she’d had, and the old doctor had said we might be able to see the sex of the baby today.

From that first appointment, he’d been coming at least once a week, doing regular ultrasounds to make sure the baby was still growing, still healthy. Cali’s bleeding had gone on, only just now slowing down to spotting, but it was something we’d all been concerned over. The ultrasounds showed that the baby was thriving. The amniotic fluid levels were on point, and the growth rate was even a little ahead of schedule.

Seeing me, Cali gave me a small smile and held out her hand, waving me over to sit beside Maria. I took my place and clasped her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before turning my attention back to the ultrasound screen.

“Everything is measuring beautifully,” Dr. Ortega said as he continued to type on the machine and take random pictures. “Are you sure you want to know the sex?”

“I don’t like surprises,” Cali told him with a huff. “Yes, I want to know who has been kicking around in there.”

The many lines around his eyes crinkled up as he smiled. “It appears that you are having a daughter.”

“Really?” she squealed, her free hand covering her mouth as happy tears spilled out of her eyes.

“Really.” He motioned to the monitor. “She seems to want her momma to know who she is as much as you do.”

“And you’re sure she’s okay? I’m still spotting, and I’ve been cramping off and on.” When he didn’t readily answer, she turned to me. “Nova, he’s not lying, is he? She’s okay, right?”

“Doctor?” I gritted out, disliking his continued silence.

He stood and started putting his things away. “The continued bleeding has not endangered the baby from what I can tell. However…” His shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head. “I fear you will need a full hysterectomy after you deliver. If we can get you to thirty-four weeks, I recommend you have a C-section and hysterectomy at the same time.”

“Wh-why?” Cali asked.

“Between the accident you told me about and then the beating over several days that followed, your womb is barely strong enough to grow the baby as is. It is my opinion that carrying this baby to term will put your life in danger. That is why I think delivering at thirty-four weeks will be better for both mother and child.”

“But why the hysterectomy?” I demanded, getting to my feet.

“I truly think there will be no other choice when it comes time. To be frank, with all the trauma that has struggled to heal, I fear she will need the hysterectomy or risk bleeding to death.” He folded his hands in front of him. “The closer she gets to the third trimester, the more danger she will be in as the baby grows and her uterus stretches more and more. It is still bruised even after all these weeks. Quite honestly, it’s a miracle she hasn’t miscarried. By six months’ gestation, she will need to be admitted into the hospital for round-the-clock care.”