A Holly Jolly Ever After

by Julie Murphy

“Oh my God,” Kallum breathed, his eyes glued to the screen. “And that’s really the baby? Right now? That’s what the baby is doing right now?” The baby was doing nothing but kicking its legs right into my cervix, but Kallum looked like he was watching his firstborn paint the Sistine Chapel inside my uterus. “Look at them kicking!” he said excitedly, pointing. “You can even see their toes! And oh my God, is that their heart? Their tiny, little heart? Doing tiny, little heartbeats?” “Sure is,” the tech said, with the fond air of someone who’d listened to many parents squeal over shit she saw for eight hours a day every day. “Oh, honey,” she said, reaching back to hand Kallum one of the tissues they kept for wiping the ultrasound gel off my stomach. “Here you are.” He took the tissue but still wiped at his eyes with the sleeves of his Royals T-shirt. “Thank you. It’s my first time.”