When she was seven months pregnant, Amanda Hess went to the doctor for a regular sonogram.

And so, you know, I take my shirt off.

I get slathered with the gel and stuff, and the technician does this ultrasound that I've had, you know, at this point many times during my pregnancy.

But then it just doesn't stop.

It was the summer of 2020, and COVID protocols meant that Amanda couldn't have anyone with her.

She was alone.

She leaves to go get the doctor, but then she comes back alone and continues to capture images. And at a certain point,

I could tell that something was wrong. The technician didn't say much, just that the baby was

sticking his tongue out. And at that moment, like the thing I remember most, the feeling I remember

most was just like desperately,

desperately wanting my phone. It wasn't like, I wish my husband was here. It was like,

I wish that my phone was not six feet away. I wish it was in my hand so that while she was doing

this, I could Google, stuck out tongue, ultrasound, seven months, whatever, and just assure myself that whatever it was, was going to be okay.

Amanda's a critic for the New York Times who writes a lot about culture. She's just written a book

about her pregnancy and her son's early years and that longing for technology to comfort her.

It's called Second Life, having a child in the digital age. You write that if I had the phone,

I could hold it close to the exam table and Google my way out.

I could pour my fears into its portal and process them into answers. Had you, had you already

had that relationship with your phone, do you think? Like, you write that your phone probably knew

you were pregnant before Mark did.

Yeah, I mean, I think before I was pregnant, I didn't think that I had that kind of relationship with my phone.

I have been writing about internet culture for a really long time.

...