Yesterday, coming out of retiro after practicing handstands, I was walking down Cuesta de Moyano when I saw V. coming in my direction. She reminded me that she had an appointment today at the hospital to which I had agreed to assist. Are you coming tomorrow? she asked. I kinda hesitated: Mondays are especially busy at work, it would be difficult for me to make a quick escape, etc. She gave me an easy exit (you can always go to the next one) while at the same time subtly making it known that it was important for her.

The inconvenience was minor so I said yes, let’s meet at the entrance of the hospital tomorrow. After navigating the endless corridors we arrived to the front desk of the maternity wing and she was quickly assigned an office for her ultrasound. A nurse sat her on one of those gyno reclining chairs with feet support and instructed her to pull up her shirt, revealing her bulging tummy.

At first they measured the head (5cm, “good” the doctor said) then he checked the spine, the face, the hands, the femur, all while saying out loud the measurements followed by “good” and finally they gave us a full view of a fetus curled right there and I felt a sudden jolt of “magic”, “wow you have a baby inside of you!” I exclaimed as she shrugged as if saying “yes that’s why we are here”. Looking at the ultrasound made something abstract (to me) more real than I had expected. They commented that the size of the baby was one week ahead of schedule and this worried V. The doctor said she should be “careful about rice and pasta” to which I raised an eyebrow as if saying “see I told you” and the doctor and nurse laughed. They reassured us everything was on track, to just not overindulge because heavy babies are difficult to deliver, but that by all measures her pregnancy is going well.

Coming out of the clinic V. was hyperfocused on what the doctor had said “Rice is out, and I’m going to exercise five times per week instead of three”, she said. Take it easy, you already have a great diet and a good exercise regime, you just have to tweak, I said. Reduce the amount of rice and increase non-starchy vegetables for volume and nutrition and you’ll be fine, I said. It’s amusing for me to see her so (healthily) obsessed about nutrition and fitness and I’m happy to provide common sense advice that she picks up like a sponge. She used to laugh at me checking the nutrition labels at the supermarket but now she does it too.

Then she pulled out of her purse a box of wet eye tissues. Some days ago I had an eye infection and my left eye was having sticky discharges and I would wake up with my eye full of crusts. Her father had had a cataract operation and she had left overs. “Oh, and I also have testosterone left over from my fertility treatment, do you want it?” I immediately said yes. I don’t necessarily want to get jacked, and in fact I do not expect it because it won’t be bodybuilder grade supplementation, but I’m very curious about the effects on libido and behavior. V. expressed health concerns but I waved them way: I’ll do my research because I wouldn’t want to fuck up my hormones, don’t worry.

With this we said goodbye and I came back to work. I’m very glad to have gone to the appointment, seeing a baby inside of V. was very exciting. It made me realize I would be both much more nervous and much more excited if I was the father. At this time, however, I’m very much relieved in taking a supporting role as I notice I wouldn’t have been prepared for this. Still, with V’s dedication and stability not much would have been required from me, but still the idea of being an absent father terrified me. I’m happy for how things turned out, V’s dream is coming true and I’m close enough to get a taste of it.