response, he picked up a calendar from the desk and studied it. “I take it this baby wasn’t planned?”
She shook her head. He looked up. She said, “No.”
“Would you like to have an ultrasound?”
“What for?”
He remained silent, watching her.
“How could this have happened?” she suddenly burst out. Flinging her hands in the air, she wiped tears from her cheeks. Alice handed over another Kleenex and she took it.
“We were always so careful; took precautions.” Her throat tightened and shaking her head, she looked at him for answers. “How could this have happened?”
He shrugged, holding her eyes. “I can’t answer that. Accidents occur. Now you must accept that this has happened.”
“But, when?” Her voice moved up the scale with the question. She fought to stop the tears, blinking them back, weak with this feeling that everything, everything now was beyond her control. “I mean, when is it due?”
“Let’s see,” Dr. Matlock’s voice turned gentle. He studied the calendar in his hand. “Today is May 18, so counting the date you gave on the forms as the beginning of your last menstrual cycle . . .” He pressed his lips together and flipped the calendar pages. “I’d say you’re due on December 15. That’s a Wednesday.” He looked up and his tone was decisive.
“How can you be so precise?”
“I’m usually very close on the date, but it’s not an exact science.” He gave her a look, then grasped the prongs of the stethoscope around his neck.
She could think of nothing but the fact that she, Rebecca Downer Jacobs, was two months pregnant. How could she not have faced the obvious? Thinking back she realized that for the last few weeks she’d been ignoring telling changes in her body; skirt waistbands feeling snug, jeans a little tighter, the nausea. “I’ll have to go on a diet,” she thought aloud.
“No diets.” Matlock wagged his finger at her. “And no alcohol or smoking. Not good for the baby.”
Baby!
She stared in disbelief as he went on about vitamins and things she couldn’t eat, or foods that she should, and the physical changes to expect in the weeks before her next appointment. The It girl’s feet might swell, and then what would she do with all those lovely high heels, and she’d be gaining weight, of course. And through this barrage of information and thoughts of the consequences tumbling through her mind, one question stood high above it all: How could this have happened?
As she sat silent, listening, gradually the doctor’s voice turned brisk. His smile had disappeared sometime during the last few minutes and now she saw the look of disappointment in his eyes. When he finished giving her the information that he thought she’d need and still she had no questions, at last his face went blank.
He pushed up and stood before her as he fingered the stethoscope and tightened his lips. “You’re still in the first trimester, Mrs. Jacobs. There are options, of course.” He said this as though the options were unthinkable.
She gave him a challenging look. The doctor averted his eyes, turning his wrist and checking the time.
“If I decide not to have it, do you . . . ?”
“No.” His tone was abrupt. His grip tightened on the stethoscope as he frowned at her. “I hope you’ll seek counseling before you make such a decision, Mrs. Jacobs. It’s the law, I know, but it’s a decision that you won’t be able to go back and change. You’ll talk it over with your husband, I know. But the two of you should really think that through before you make a decision.”
“Yes. I know.”
His brows met over his nose as he turned and plucked a colorful brochure from a plastic pocket hanging on the wall over the desk. He held it out and she took it.
“Take a look at this and if you decide to have the baby, come back to see me in two weeks. Or, make an appointment with your usual physician.” She said nothing and he pulled a large bottle of pills from the
She shook her head. He looked up. She said, “No.”
“Would you like to have an ultrasound?”
“What for?”
He remained silent, watching her.
“How could this have happened?” she suddenly burst out. Flinging her hands in the air, she wiped tears from her cheeks. Alice handed over another Kleenex and she took it.
“We were always so careful; took precautions.” Her throat tightened and shaking her head, she looked at him for answers. “How could this have happened?”
He shrugged, holding her eyes. “I can’t answer that. Accidents occur. Now you must accept that this has happened.”
“But, when?” Her voice moved up the scale with the question. She fought to stop the tears, blinking them back, weak with this feeling that everything, everything now was beyond her control. “I mean, when is it due?”
“Let’s see,” Dr. Matlock’s voice turned gentle. He studied the calendar in his hand. “Today is May 18, so counting the date you gave on the forms as the beginning of your last menstrual cycle . . .” He pressed his lips together and flipped the calendar pages. “I’d say you’re due on December 15. That’s a Wednesday.” He looked up and his tone was decisive.
“How can you be so precise?”
“I’m usually very close on the date, but it’s not an exact science.” He gave her a look, then grasped the prongs of the stethoscope around his neck.
She could think of nothing but the fact that she, Rebecca Downer Jacobs, was two months pregnant. How could she not have faced the obvious? Thinking back she realized that for the last few weeks she’d been ignoring telling changes in her body; skirt waistbands feeling snug, jeans a little tighter, the nausea. “I’ll have to go on a diet,” she thought aloud.
“No diets.” Matlock wagged his finger at her. “And no alcohol or smoking. Not good for the baby.”
Baby!
She stared in disbelief as he went on about vitamins and things she couldn’t eat, or foods that she should, and the physical changes to expect in the weeks before her next appointment. The It girl’s feet might swell, and then what would she do with all those lovely high heels, and she’d be gaining weight, of course. And through this barrage of information and thoughts of the consequences tumbling through her mind, one question stood high above it all: How could this have happened?
As she sat silent, listening, gradually the doctor’s voice turned brisk. His smile had disappeared sometime during the last few minutes and now she saw the look of disappointment in his eyes. When he finished giving her the information that he thought she’d need and still she had no questions, at last his face went blank.
He pushed up and stood before her as he fingered the stethoscope and tightened his lips. “You’re still in the first trimester, Mrs. Jacobs. There are options, of course.” He said this as though the options were unthinkable.
She gave him a challenging look. The doctor averted his eyes, turning his wrist and checking the time.
“If I decide not to have it, do you . . . ?”
“No.” His tone was abrupt. His grip tightened on the stethoscope as he frowned at her. “I hope you’ll seek counseling before you make such a decision, Mrs. Jacobs. It’s the law, I know, but it’s a decision that you won’t be able to go back and change. You’ll talk it over with your husband, I know. But the two of you should really think that through before you make a decision.”
“Yes. I know.”
His brows met over his nose as he turned and plucked a colorful brochure from a plastic pocket hanging on the wall over the desk. He held it out and she took it.
“Take a look at this and if you decide to have the baby, come back to see me in two weeks. Or, make an appointment with your usual physician.” She said nothing and he pulled a large bottle of pills from the
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