Twelve Weeks of Smiles

"What’s happened?” my husband asked, groggy and disoriented, the weight of his night shift still clinging to him.

But even in that half-conscious state, he sensed it—something in my presence had shifted. I couldn’t hold it in.

“Your first-born is going to be a Scorpio,” I whispered, smiling.

A grin slowly stretched across his face, tentative at first, then breaking fully into joy as checked with me that I was serious.

I was barely four weeks along, but for the next eight weeks, I wore my grin like a badge. The joy was contagious as we shared the news with friends and family. Every smile was a spark, lighting up the world we thought we were building.

“You look nice,” he said, smiling, as I walked into the waiting room for our 12-week scan.

I introduced him to our doctor—funny, I already felt like I knew her so well—and practically leapt onto the table. I was grinning from ear to ear, ready to see our baby again.

The ultrasound machine buzzed to life, and I felt the cool gel spread across my skin. I turned to look at my husband. He was smiling too.

We both turned to the screen. We just knew.

And just like that, our grins disappeared—vanished, the way our baby’s heartbeat had.

The room went still. So did time.

It would be a while before I could smile again.