We’re in the ultrasound room. I stare at the blank screen, it having only my information on it for now. It’s last November again. We’re here for the first time and all I am worried about is if the internal wand will hurt. Our doctor’s words remind me: honestly, it’s probably smaller than him. I never knew no baby was even an option. My tests told me positive, my symptoms told me pregnant. But the ultrasound showed that these were true and not. We both stared at that screen. Silence. We didn’t know we were staring at our miscarriage. But it is not then, it is today— so we stare at the empty screen and hope not to repeat history. The tech remembers us. We get the obligatory congratulations and then squirt and then I’m laying back so she can insert the wand. We see a blob, two actually. There is a little Christmas light blinking inside one of the blobs. What is that? Pause. That’s a heartbeat.

– Aarron Sholar