The earliest appointment we can get is in ten days’ time. There might be other obstetricians available sooner, but we decide to wait for this one. We went online and Googled stuff like “best obstetrician in Sandton” and “number-one obstetrician” and came across sites where people write about the experiences they’ve had with doctors – almost like restaurant reviews.

The one doctor who stood out was Dr Vaneesha Patel at the practice, Brown & Patel. They are based at the Morningside Fem-Clinic, which would be an awesome place for Nosipho to deliver her baby. They’ve got water-birthing suites and a top-class chef and a wine list, and stuff like that. It looks amazing. Not that Nosipho would need a wine list, but still.

But getting back to Dr Patel. So many people raved about her online that we were convinced. And one of the people who wrote a review was a teenager, just like Nosipho. She said that Dr Patel never once made her feel judged or stupid. That sealed the deal for us.

Unfortunately, it seems a lot of people had the same idea, which is why we had the ten-day wait.

But that’s over now and we are sitting in our trusty Uber, on our way to the Morningside Fem-Clinic. It’s really close – just a couple of blocks down Rivonia Road – which also makes it very convenient.

Lael and I are super-excited to see the baby on a screen at last, but Nosipho is twitching with nerves.

“What if there’s something wrong with it?” she says, wringing her hands. “What if … what if it’s not even alive anymore?”

“That’s a bit morbid, babes,” says Lael. “Don’t think like that. I know bad stuff happens, but there’s no point in worrying about it before we even know if we have something to worry about.”

“Okay…okay, you’re right. I’ll stop.” But she starts chewing on her thumbnail again.

“Listen, the one advantage of having a baby young is that you’re fit and healthy,” I point out.

“But what if I’m too young? What if the baby doesn’t develop properly because my body isn’t ready or some-thing?”

“That is not going to happen. You’re the size of an adult woman. You’re taller than your own mom.”

“Okay, that’s true. Yes, I suppose that is true.”

“Of course, it’s true. Plus, your eggs are so young and healthy, you’re probably going to give birth to a super-hero. Stop worrying!”

Nosipho subsides into silence. The Uber pulls into the parking lot of the Morningside Fem-Clinic and we all hop out.

Brown & Patel are on the second floor. They have a lovely, spacious waiting room with a reception desk at either end – one for Dr Brown and one for Dr Patel. We announce ourselves to Dr Patel’s receptionist, and she gives Nosipho a form to fill in and a little plastic bottle with a screw-on lid.
Nosipho gives it a dubious look. “What is this for?”

“That’s for your urine sample, dear. You will do one for Nurse every time you have an appointment. The ladies’ bathroom is at the end of the corridor on the right.”

Nos turns to us with a pitiful look on her face. “Please come with me, guys.”

Lael and I hold up our hands.

“Nope.”

“Uh-uh.”

“You’re on your own, sorry.”

“You have to pee into a bottle. How hard can it be?” We sit down on one of the soft, plushy sofas while

Nosipho slouches off to the bathroom.

“Lots of reading matter here,” Lael comments, looking at all the millions of pamphlets on offer. “Maybe we should grab a few for Nos.”

We start flipping through them, looking for some-thing useful.

I read through the titles in my handful. “Your Baby has Spina Bifida? Your Baby has Down Syndrome? Your Baby is Premature? Your Baby has Trisomy 18? Gosh, this is cheerful, I must say.”

“Put them down, quick,” Lael says, as Nosipho comes back clutching her pee bottle. “She’s freaked out enough as it is.”

Nosipho hands in her bottle and comes to sit with us. She is clearly still nervous, but looks happier now that she’s here at last. Like me, she is looking around at the other women in the waiting room. Most of them have bumps, ranging from tiny to enormous. It’s hard to im-agine that Nosipho will be that big one day.

As we wait, we see women getting called in to see either Dr Brown or Dr Patel. Most of them come out wearing big smiles and holding CDs, flash-drives, or printouts of photographs.

Lael nudges Nosipho. “That’s going to be you soon. We’re going to see your baby. You’ll get a photo and we can start an album.”

Nosipho’s frown lightens, and she starts to smile again.

“What is that? What are you looking at? What’s that weird little flashing light? It’s a bad sign, isn’t it?”

Nosipho is flopping around on the examination table like an eel. She keeps twisting herself around to look at the screen.

“Please keep still, Ms Mamusa,” says Dr Patel. “The image goes blurry when you move like that.”

“But the flashing light,” Nosipho frets. “What is it?” Dr Patel smiles as she concentrates on the screen.

“That, Ms Mamusa, is your baby’s heartbeat.”

Nosipho goes completely still. “The heartbeat? Really?

So … so … it’s alive?”

“Alive and kicking, I’m happy to say. I’ll turn the volume up so you can listen while I do some more checks and measurements.”

She clicks on something with her mouse and the room is filled with the flub-dub, flub -dub sound of a heart-beat. I hold my breath. I’ve seen this scene in movies so many times, but it is incredible to experience it in real life. All my emotions are mirrored on Lael’s face as we listen in wonder.

“But why is it so fast?” Nosipho asks. She has a point.

The heartbeat sounds like it’s galloping.

“That’s completely normal,” says the doctor. “A foetus of this age has a much faster heartbeat than you or I. Your baby’s heart is currently beating at a rate of 144 beats per minute, which is spot-on for fifteen weeks. You, on the other hand, have a heart rate of 70 beats a minute, which is also perfect for a fit and active young woman of your age.”

“I just wish I knew what I was looking at,” Nosipho says.
She is lying still now, but her head is still twisted around and she is staring at the screen with a deep crease between her brows. “It looks like someone is stirring a pot of soup on the stove. Every time I think I’ve spotted something, the soup gets stirred up again and it disap-pears. The only thing I can see for sure is the heart.”

“No, look here.” Lael points at the screen. “I’ve fig-ured it out. This round thing over here is the head. And the thing that looks like a twisty little ladder is the spine. And look at the little arms – it’s so cute! They’re waving around.”

There’s a look of wonder on Nosipho’s face as she suddenly sees it. It’s like one of those optical illusions that comes into focus. I can also see it now – a perfect baby.

“Wow…!” she breathes. “That is so amazing. What’s happening now? It almost … it almost looks like the baby is sucking its thumb.”

Dr Patel turns around and smiles at her. “That’s exactly what is happening. Thumb-sucking is also very common behaviour at this stage.”

Tears spring to Nosipho’s eyes, but that’s fine because Lael and I have tears in our eyes too. This is the most amazing thing any of us has ever seen.

“Would you like to know the sex of the baby?” the doctor asks.

Nosipho stares at her. “The sex of the baby? You mean you can tell already? I thought it was too early.”

“Fifteen weeks is a little early. Quite often we only know for sure at the twenty-week scan, but it just so happens that I got a very good look a few minutes ago, and now I’m a hundred per cent sure.”

Nosipho chews her lip. “What should I do, guys? I can’t decide.”

“Totally up to you,” says Lael.

“It’s your call,” I agree. “The fact that I’m desperate to know shouldn’t influence you at all. Don’t even think about me tossing and turning each night wondering if it’s a boy or a girl. I mean, I’m only going to be the baby’s favourite aunt, but don’t let that influence you in the…”

“Oh, hush,” says Lael with a laugh. “Don’t listen to her, Nos. It’s your decision.”

“And you can change your mind at any stage,” Dr Pa-tel reminds her. “If you don’t want to know now, but you do want to know at the next scan, that is also fine. You’re in the driver’s seat here.”

“Okay, then I don’t want to know yet. I still want to think about it a bit.”

“That’s perfect.” Dr Patel tears off a few sheets of paper towel and hands them to Nosipho. “You can wipe the jelly off with this. Your baby is progressing beauti-fully, and so are you. Come through to my office when you’re all cleaned up and we’ll talk about your next appointment.”

***