The Color of Family by Patricia Jones Page A

Right now, though, I’m concerned about this baby you’re carrying. You’re due in four months, and you want to give this baby as good a start as you can. I’m just asking you, for the sake of the baby you’re carrying, to cut out the herbal supplements and perhaps find other ways to nurture D.J. Cuddle him. Maybe snuggle with him at night.” She paused and looked down at her own generous belly and rubbed it, then continued, “I don’t know, Mrs. Simms. I’ve never been a mother before, so I can’t tell you how to do it. I just know that from the standpoint of your health and the health of your unborn baby, you have to stop the supplements. You have to think about the true needs of the baby.”
    Then Mrs. Simms said pleadingly, “But Dr. Barrett, Third World women living in villages all over the planet only have what grows from the ground to cure themselves or keep themselves healthy during pregnancy. And they nurse their children while they have babies growing in their womb. And some of those children they nurse are as old, sometimes older than D.J. It’s natural.It’s the reason we have breasts. And it’s the reason why nature put herbs on this earth for us.”
    Ellen’s frustration had wrestled her into a corner where patience had been sucked dry. So she said sharply, “Mrs. Simms, you are talking about women living in abject poverty who have no other choice and no other means of taking care of themselves, or, for that matter, feeding their children if you want to add breast-feeding to this mix. And quite honestly, I find it offensive that you would sit here with the privilege of prenatal care living in a wealthy country with access to the Western medicine that is desperately needed in Third World countries, and, I might add, a healthy, well-fed child in the waiting room and dare to equate your reasons for choosing herbal supplements and choosing to nurse your six-year-old son with the desperate choices those women have to make on a daily basis just to exist. You’ve got to get some perspective here, Mrs. Simms, and you also must question if the needs you’re actually trying to comfort are your own.”
    Ellen got herself up and went over to the stack of fresh hospital gowns and snatched one off the top of the pile. She stood for several seconds just holding the gown and looking down at the floor, because she had to make certain if what she would say next to the woman was coming from a deep place of professional frustration, or if it was coming from that place of equal depth that was lined with the hormones of pregnancy. But by the time the ultimatum was spilling from her lips, she’d decided that it didn’t matter. As she walked back toward Mrs. Simms to hand her the hospital gown, she said, “Mrs. Simms, you have a choice to make here today. You either need to stop taking the herbal supplements or you need to find yourself another obstetrician to follow you through the rest of your pregnancy and delivery. What you are doing could eventually put too much stress on the health of your unborn baby, and I simply will not, I cannot be responsible for that.” She let go of the gown once the woman had it in her grip. Ellen went to the door and put her hand on the handle, and just before she pulled it open, she turned and said, “It’s your choice. You can let me know when I come back in. If you decide you want to see another obstetrician, I can give you the names of several here at the hospital who are specialists in high-risk pregnancies, because in my professional opinion, that’s exactly the categoryyou’re putting yourself in as a borderline older mother taking these supplements.”
    Ellen left the room, pulling the door closed tightly behind her. She stood, not wanting to move, holding the door handle with second thoughts. Then she let her hand drop and walked slowly to her office. Once she’d sat at her