Becca's Baby

And was a normal over-forty birth really too risky?

But then, why were so many over-forty women having babies? And doing just fine?

“It sounds to me like Dr. Anderson thinks we could go ahead with this.”

Becca shrugged, making Will angry all over again.

“So why is it that you insist on trusting the advice of a doctor you just met rather than the advice of a doctor you’ve been seeing for almost twenty years?”

“Because maybe, in this case, it took a complete stranger to tell the truth.”

“Dr. Anderson wouldn’t lie to you.”

“No.” Becca paused. “But she might be more willing to look for positives.”

“And that’s bad?” He didn’t understand. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t with her at all.

“I need the bald truth, Will, not a truth messed up with emotions and hopes and dreams.”

“So…what are you going to do?”

Her eyes were red rimmed. She’d removed her makeup, and while she still looked beautiful, her fatigue was evident.

“What do you think I should do?” she asked.

She knew what he thought. He hadn’t heard anything that made him think having an abortion was necessary. So why did he feel like the bad guy? He was trying to preserve a life here. A very precious, long-awaited life.

It was an unfair move, turning the tables on him when they were dealing with her body. Her health.

“What do you want to do?” he countered.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. A tear dripped slowly down her cheek. “I’m frightened, Will.”

His heart, even bruised as it was, went out to her. He was tempted to pull her into his arms, to press the advantage she’d just given him and convince her to have the baby he so desperately wanted. But he remained still, his arms at his sides.

“Do you want the baby?” That was the crux of the matter, he believed. In more ways than one. If she wanted this child, they could investigate the health issues, pursue all the options, assure themselves that the risk was no greater for Becca than for any other woman her age. Hell, pregnancy was a risk for women at any age, but that didn’t stop women from having babies.

But if she didn’t want it…

“I don’t know what I want.”

The words were blunt, honest, ugly—and filled with anguish.

“I don’t think I’d be a good mother now. I don’t have the patience.”

“Patience can be acquired.” He was counting on that, certain he had some acquiring to do himself if his middle-aged household was to be taken over by a child. “And you’d be a great mom, Bec. The best. Because you’ve got enough love for at least ten kids. Look how much you enjoy volunteering at the day care. And how much those kids love you.”

A small tremulous smile spread on her lips, but was quickly gone.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said. He was clutching at one hope: that the connection that had been between them since childhood still existed. That they could reach each other—and an answer that was right for both of them. That he could somehow understand.

“I feel so trapped.” Her words weren’t reassuring. In fact, just the opposite. Will’s heart grew heavier with every word.

“I don’t want to have this baby. I’m afraid something will be wrong with it. And…I’m afraid of dying.” She paused, looked him in the eye, leaving no doubt about the truth of her words. “And I don’t want to not have it, either.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t seem right.”