Smoking and drinking during pregnancy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It’s a beautiful fall day in 1973, sunshine pouring through the campus medical office window where Lara sits with her back straight, hands folded primly in her lap, waiting for her examination results.
“You are definitely pregnant”, the doctor tells her. “Four or five weeks along. Do you know what you want to do about this?”
Do? Lara tries to clear her head and imagine what exactly people are expected to do in this kind of situation. Cry? Throw a party? Why does the doctor care what she’s going to do?
“Was this pregnancy planned? Is your husband going to be okay with it?”
No, not planned, Lara tells her. Not discussed, not anticipated. Big surprise, really. So much for the diaphragm as birth control. Throwing that out now I guess. Stupid thing. They stare at each other for a moment in silence.
“If you decide to terminate this pregnancy, it’s best to do it now. You will need to let me know as soon as possible so we can make the arrangements”
Lara’s heart thuds and she moves her clasped hands up across her belly. An abortion, that’s the option Lara is supposed to be considering, and immediately she knows that for her it isn’t an option at all.
“Oh God, no, I’m really happy about this!” She supposes the doctor can be forgiven for not figuring out that her shell-shocked expression is an indication of joy. And if Stan isn’t thrilled with the news that he’s going to be a parent before his university semester is over, oh well. Lara decides she won’t dwell on that.
Because it doesn’t matter. She is going to have this baby. The doctor gives her a huge smile, as if to say she’s made the right decision, and tells her to come back and see her in a month.
When Stan picks her up ten minutes later he doesn’t even ask. Laras beaming face tells him everything he needs to know.
(This is in response to this weeks Trifecta Challenge)