Karen had met Alan Avery, then a senior medical student, at a party during her junior year in law school. A former member of his college swimming team, Alan stood five feet eleven inches tall, with skin that tanned easily and thick black hair. They made a photogenic couple. After dating for a couple of months they began to look beyond appearances and saw each other as a good catch who could also be an asset in their climb to success.

Their marriage, which took place a month after her graduation from law school, could be described as made, if not in heaven, at least in a marriage counselor’s office. Neither had any religious conviction. What they did have was their own professional futures, mutual respect, and guaranteed wealth. Their family was planned at the outset: there would be none until they’d established themselves, which in his case meant completion of his specialty and subspecialty training. For Alan had not been called to medicine to take care of sore throats and bellyaches. Both parents were tenured medical professors; his older sister was already teaching surgery; two younger twin brothers were in medical school, each involved in a faculty research project as promising as Alan’s had been in his day. With the publication of “Cardiac output in the white rat before and after mating: An unexpected sex difference,” in which the compulsive reader could find the name Avery, A.G., sixth in a string of seven authors (the department chair’s name bringing up the rear), a distinguished career in cardiology, research and all, surely was his for the taking. And he was expected to take it.

The prescribed path began with a three-year residency in internal medicine, of which he was approaching the halfway point. A year from now applications for a cardiology fellowship — a combination of clinical consultations, research, and teaching — would be due. But he wasn’t thinking about his career as he lazily watched the six o’clock news.

“Hi Hon. You also have the night off?”

She sidestepped the innuendo and answered brightly, “The afternoon too.”

He took his eyes off the TV. “How’s that?” he asked, frowning now. He hoped it was just a shopping trip. A larger wardrobe for court, maybe; she’d never get time off for personal shopping.

“I’ve been to Rosetta Brand’s office.” It was not a name he recognized. “An obstetrician. Janine recommended her.”

Alan’s face darkened. “Obstetrician,” he repeated. An oppressive silence followed as the implication dawned on him. “You didn’t have to go to a stranger, you know. I have connections.”

Saving him the question he evidently lacked the courage to ask, she said: “I’m pregnant.”

Alan blanched. “But we take precautions! How’s it possible?”

“You’re the doctor. Don’t precautions sometimes fail?”

He stared at his wife. How could she be so complacent? She saved him that question too. “I’ll get an abortion. Help me with that.”

Leaving him to research his connections, she hung up her coat and purse and headed for the credenza.

“Would you like a drink?” she called over her shoulder.

He started to get up but dropped back into his chair, too shocked to answer. “Alan,” she repeated, “do you want anything?”

“No thanks.” The words barely made it out of his dry mouth. He could have used a drink.

She returned holding her scotch and soda. “What’s the matter?” she asked, seeing his vacant expression. “An abortion’s no big deal, is it?”

Alan pulled himself together. Looking her in the eye, he said, “It is a big deal.”

“I’ve only missed two periods. I thought it was quite safe.”

“That’s not the point, Karen. We’re talking about our child.”

Had she been asked in the abstract, at another time, she’d have been the first to say that family planning was not her exclusive right. But this was concrete and it was now, a threat that outweighed the niceties of consensual decision-making. Her reaction was immediate and unequivocal.

“I can’t have a baby now! I thought we’d agreed to wait till you were finished with your training. That’s another three years.”

Alan walked slowly to the window, Karen’s eyes following him anxiously. Across the street a girl of about three was pedaling a tricycle, a somewhat older boy taking a free ride on the back. Both seemed to be having the time of their lives. Alan smiled, wondered how long the girl’s strength would hold out. “Alan?” Karen’s voice brought him back.

He took a deep breath, still facing the window, hands in his pockets, and braced himself. “I’ve done some thinking,” he said slowly, looking at his knees, “and I’m not sure I have the drive or the talent for the rat race. Someone has to take care of patients, and I’m actually enjoying it.” He turned to her and raised his eyes. “If I practice internal medicine I won’t be famous, but who needs it? I can be out of residency June after next.”

“This is the first I’ve heard about June after next.”

Her tone, in which he heard both fear and anger, rattled him. “You mean, just because my parents expect me to build a reputation on copulating rats, I can’t choose to go into practice?”

“I assume you’ve already dealt with your parents’ reaction . . . . Have you told them?”

“No, and it’s time to face up. They seem to think that greatness is a family obligation. I just didn’t inherit the right genes. Let Erica carry the family banner, or Byron, or Ken.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way, . . .”

“So?”

“. . . but that’s not really what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” Now he was on the offensive. “What reason can there be to put it off a year — from your point of view?”

“I don’t want to make any commitment right now.”

Even as she spoke, determination battling with uneasiness, she asked herself, when had she changed her mind? Was it the trial, or was it the accumulation of experience from the start? She had entered the offices of Frazier & Drummond on her first day with all the naïveté of the newly graduated. She would have it all. Other women managed profession and parenthood, and so would she. Yet doubts had crept in, bypassing the conscious mind that was too busy, or unwilling, to pay attention. Now her own words told her that whether to have the baby next year or in three years was a side issue. In fact, holding Alan literally to their agreement would be self-defeating, and she was relieved that he hadn’t given in.

Alan’s decision, in fact, forced the issue. With the determination to deviate from his prescribed career path came an equal determination to start a family. It would help convince his parents, who would cloak their disappointment in a quasi-neutral question, asked with smiling face: “What made you decide?” — as if he owed them an explanation — that he meant what he said. And he would not give in to Karen. After all, the delay was intended for his training, not hers. She was already flying high.

As dutiful partners they shared their daily experiences, though often not in a reciprocal way. It was a standing joke between them that before long she would know more medicine than he, what with her work and the stories he told about his patients. But his interest in law did not match hers in medicine. Thus he remembered little of her shoptalk and, worse, often found himself irritated when she interrupted his thoughts, reading, or television program. At first proud to be married to such a powerhouse, he had found himself uneasy of late with her enthusiasm for her work, an uneasiness multiplied by her success in court. It contrasted too sharply with the scaling back of his professional ambitions. And now the nauseating hint that she didn’t want children. He needed time to think.

“That’s a significant thing you’re saying,” he said. “Can we talk tomorrow, after I’ve had a chance to digest it?”

“There isn’t all that much to talk about.”

“I’m afraid there is.”

In bed that night, they could not have been less intimate had they been on opposite sides of a bundling board. It was their first crisis. As the sleepless hours passed, he searched for hope. Maybe Karen’s decision was not as unambivalent as it seemed, but the worst thing he could do was to challenge her and force her to take a firm stand in defense. There had to be a better way. When he found it, he was able to sleep.

Breakfast in the kitchen had been their favorite meal as long as they had lived in their house. The east-facing window caught the morning sun streaming through when they sat down to breakfast. But this morning her face was drawn and the usual cheerful good morning was missing.

“Karen,” he said, putting a hand on her arm, “you know I’ll support you, whatever it takes to get where you want to be. But what you said last night sounds like you’re having second thoughts about ever having children. Maybe I read too much into it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her tone softened to match his. “I’ve always looked forward to a family, just like you. But it’s hard to think of babies right now, just when work’s so exciting.”

“But a child wouldn’t mean the end of your career. A few weeks off and then we’d have someone to take care of the baby while you go right back to work.”

She shook her head. “You don’t realize the full extent of it. I didn’t either at first. But I’ve heard Janine talk about herself. I didn’t know she’d had her eyes on law school till she told me about her baby. She had a sitter, daycare, everything she needed so she could work, but she was constantly thinking about the baby, worrying over every little thing, taking time off when he got sick. After a while she decided she couldn’t be true to the baby and law school at the same time. I’d hate to be facing a dilemma like that.”

Alan nodded vigorously to validate her concern.

“Everything you say makes perfect sense,” he said. “But where does it leave us? I’ve also learned things along the way. Professional success has its price, not only up front but forever after. The successful people get called on for so many appearances, committees, lectures, symposia, you name it, and eventually they have time for nothing else.”

The flash of anger in her eyes took him by surprise.

“Are you suggesting that I should try not to be successful, so that I’d want kids instead?”

He realized the danger just in time to control himself.

“Of course not. I’m just concerned that no future time’s going to be any better than now.”

“Maybe that’s right,” Karen said, her voice a shade louder than before, “and that’s exactly what makes me wonder whether I want children at all.”

Alan felt the screws tightening. It was hard to maintain a sympathetic tone.

“That’s what scares me. You’re seeing career and family as mutually exclusive, and family loses out. That isn’t what we had in mind when we married!”

“No, but I’ve learned since then. Children grow up and leave, but my career, and the consequences of giving it up, are with me for life. Don’t I have a right to think of myself too?”

Alan paused to consider that question. It was a trap; no unqualified answer would be acceptable. The unpleasant choice facing him was between her resentment and his, and who could tell whether any resolution was possible within their marriage? Still, he tried.

“You’re far better off than Janine. You’re already a lawyer, so you don’t have to decide about becoming one. Besides, after worrying about the child for a while you’ll hit your stride. If you have to take time off, isn’t it easier before you move up in the firm? Right now you’re not going to lose clients for them. But the higher you go, the more there’s at stake.”

She was looking at the floor, her mouth set in a straight line, taking in the argument but not replying. He delivered what he intended to be the coup de grâce.

“Also, you don’t have to do it all yourself. I don’t intend to be an absentee father.”

Karen did not feel convinced, but neither did she want to seem stubborn. “Well, I have a few weeks to decide. I’ll talk it over with Frank and see what he says.”

First person singular. A decision to be made by her alone. With the help of her boss, not her husband. Still he found strength.

“I’m sure Frank realizes what a treasure he has. He’ll be only too glad to make a concession to your personal life.”

A week passed before she brought up the subject again. They were walking in the Wissahickon Valley, an arm of Fairmount Park that came within a few blocks of their home. It was one of those late winter days that announced to the optimist that spring was not far away. As the receding clouds caught the light of the setting sun in a dazzling display of orange, purple, and blue, Karen was optimistic. It was a perfect setting for her announcement.

“I spoke with Frank. He’s not exactly beside himself with joy, but he seems to think I have a responsibility to my husband. I made the mistake of telling him you wanted a child.” She cast an impish sideways glance at Alan. “Anyway, he thought there’d be a place for me at F & D when I come back. Even suggested I work part time until our daughter’s in school.”

“All guarantees void if it’s a boy?” he asked, matching her expression.

“OK, I won’t quibble,” she said lightly. “But seriously, there’s a risk. There’s no guarantee that someone won’t slip into my position. If they need the manpower—”

“Never,” he said with all the conviction he could feign. “They might get temporary help, but they won’t replace you. They can’t.” He did not know enough to justify such an assertion, but he was not about to let doubts fester in her mind.

She, in turn, knew his assurance was just so much bluster, but she had committed herself.

“It won’t be for months yet,” she said.

Months of satisfying work, months to agonize over her decision — reverse it, maybe?