The last trimester of her pregnancy was not as uncomfortable as Karen feared. There were days when she felt she could have worked till she went into labor, had the baby, and been back next day. But she knew it was useless to suggest anything so radical to her obstetrician — or to Alan — so she took leave two weeks before the due date. A baby shower awaited her on the last day, filling her with a turmoil of emotions that only Frank would have understood. Alan, who had contrived to disable her car that morning, picked her up when it was over.

During the drive home there was no conversation. Alan hummed to himself, undisturbed by her silence. She entered the house as he garaged the car and, after wandering aimlessly for a minute or two, made for the study. There he found her, staring out the window.

“Tired?” he asked.

“I guess so.” The accompanying smile faded the moment she withdrew the conscious effort to sustain it. Addressing her vacant expression a second time, he asked:

“Are you OK? You don’t look like someone coming from a party in your own honor.”

Karen asked herself, is it possible for a person to be so insensitive? Is this the way men are? Rising with an effort from the chair, and patting herself on her abdomen, she said:

“Can we go out for a light supper tonight? I don’t feel like making anything.”

“Of course, dear. It’s been a little overwhelming for you. I understand how you feel.”

He walked to where she was standing and held her briefly. She did not resist.

“What am I going to do between now and labor?” she asked later over soup and salad.

“As little as you can. Save your strength. The first labor’s always the hardest.”

Her eyes flashed. “Have we now decided to have more?”

“No, no, no. We haven’t decided anything. I was only talking about labor. If you’d been through it before, it might be easier this time. That’s all I meant.”

“Well, the first is going to be the last, so I won’t experience the pleasure of easier labors.”

“Karen, honey, don’t let it get to you. I know it’s a drag being wedged up against that uterus day and night. But it’s a self-limiting disorder. It’ll cure itself in a couple of weeks.”

The joke fell flat. She threw her napkin on the table. “Isn’t it obvious to you that the whole idea of having a baby is bothering me? Not some stupid pregnancy, or labor.”

He looked steadily into her eyes. “Yes, it is obvious,” he said slowly. “It’s been obvious for the past eight months. What happened after we agreed back in the spring?”

“Nothing happened, except I’ve had time to think. I feel I’ve been railroaded, what with your wanting it, reassurances, proud grandparents-to-be, all that crap. Everything except my own needs. I’m doing this for everyone except myself. And ruining my life in the bargain.”

“I’m sorry to hear you talk that way. I really am. We talked about your doubts months ago, and after that I thought you felt OK. But it seems you didn’t. I don’t think I understand.”

“I do understand. What I don’t understand is how I could ever have agreed in the first place.”

“You do remember, don’t you?”

“Yes, I remember. I remember wanting an abortion and being talked out of it.” Her voice rose and angry tears rolled down her face. “That’s what I remember. It was never my decision.” Guests at neighboring tables discreetly looked the other way.

“Why have you kept all this bottled up?” he asked in a whisper. She lowered her voice.

“It didn’t hit me till today. All these months I’ve been putting down my doubts. As you just reminded me, I had agreed. Now I’m out. From here on, it’s toilet training, snotty noses, PTA, bridge parties. Enter Mrs. Doctor Alan Avery; exit Karen Brooks Avery, Esquire.”

Alan sensed a hint of absurdity in this tirade but refrained from laughing. No matter how comically she put it, she was in distress. Besides, her analysis was rational even if exaggerated. He felt a twinge of guilt at being the beneficiary of her sacrifice, but it barely detracted from his joyful anticipation. If he had dared, he might have said, “Darling, I know I put one over on you, but the statute of limitations has run out.” Instead, he resolved to be more supportive.

“Yes, today was a landmark. Baby shower, last day, and so on. That sort of shocks you into realizing it’s truly happening. But don’t forget, Frank did say he’d take you back when you’re ready, and our son — OK, our daughter, maybe — will grow up and you’ll be right back on track. Do you have any reason to doubt that Frank meant what he said?”

“No. As a matter of fact, I had another long talk with him a couple of months ago. He called me in. Claimed I didn’t look too happy. So he repeated his reassurances.”

“He said you didn’t look too happy?” Alan realized how much easier it was for Frank to talk with Karen than it was for him. “Did you talk about anything else?”

“That was about it.” There was no point in relating the rest.

“Well, I know this sounds shallow and like a pat on the back, but I do think you’ll feel better in a few days. And years from now, you’ll be boasting of having a child and a career.”

She felt obliged to smile at the prospect, remote as it seemed on that day. Claiming total exhaustion, she managed to escape to bed without continuing that distasteful conversation.

Her labor pains began during the night and by next evening she was settled in the delivery suite at Cresheim Valley Hospital. At three in the morning she delivered a vigorous eight-pound-eight-ounce girl who took less than five seconds to yell her objections. Her Apgar score, a measure of the health of a newborn, was 9/10 at one minute and 10/10 at five minutes.

The mother paid the price with serious tissue laceration. Two days after delivery she was complaining of increasing pain and her temperature was 103 degrees. “Gracious!” said Rosetta Brand. “You have puerperal fever. I guess you’ve heard of that. Not surprising with such a plump firstborn. She demanded more space than you were able to give her, but don’t take it out on her; she didn’t know how to say ‘excuse me, please.’ Anyway, we’ll take care of it, and when you’re well you can celebrate with her. First I need to take specimens from the birth canal and your blood, then start you on antibiotics.”

“She is big,” Karen agreed, with a modicum of pride. “Tore me up on the way out. Fighting already.”

“Good spirit.” Doctor Brand went along with the joke. “Now, do you have any allergies?”

“Not that I know of. My nose gets stopped up sometimes, but that’s about all.”

“How about penicillin?”

“Not that I remember.”

“OK. I’ll order ampicillin and gentamicin. Call the nurse if you have any trouble.”

There was no trouble, and within twenty-four hours she felt better. The laboratory identified group B streptococcus. Doctor Brand explained.

“We don’t see many of these. Group B strep is related to the bug that causes strep throat and some nasty complications, but you don’t have to worry about any of that.”

“Ugh! Thanks for telling me. I could have died.”

“Only if you hadn’t been treated. In the days before antibiotics women did die from strep septicemia.

“Anyway, now that I know, I’m stopping the gentamicin injections; ampicillin will do the job. In a couple more days, if you’re feeling up to it, you can go home and take it by mouth for a week.”

Four days later she was discharged. They named the baby Edlyn Endora, after her two grandmothers. Having paid the expected tribute to their forbears, they set about applying those quaint names to a child of the 1970s. Karen suggested the contraction Eden, which happened be a recognized name in its own right. The original names were relegated to the birth certificate. To the rest of the world, she would be Eden.

∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼

If she could have avoided it gracefully, Karen would not have gone back to the office to show off the baby. Even with her pride of motherhood — which both delighted and surprised her — she could not banish the mixed feelings attendant on such a visit. But her friends expected it and, besides, she could not afford to offend Frank by neglecting this courtesy.

No greeting was more enthusiastic or sincere than Janine’s.

“Well, now, isn’t that worth taking a few weeks off for?” she asked with obvious delight.

Karen dodged the unintended connotation. “I couldn’t have done it here. I had a pretty bad strep infection. Could have got scarlet fever, or other horrible things. I’m lucky I didn’t.”

“Wow! I had no idea. But you look great. They must’ve taken good care of you.”

“Yes, I bounced back pretty fast. Had to. The baby wouldn’t let me take sick leave.”

“Oh, they can be demanding. But lots of fun. You won’t miss this place.”

Karen swallowed before answering. “If I do, I can visit. Maybe even do a bit of work.”

“Don’t even think of working. Don’t be torn two ways. She’ll need all your attention.”

“Is Frank around?”

“In his office. I’m sure he’d love to see the baby, and you too. Just knock.”

“Come in,” he said. She showed her head, holding Eden out of his line of vision.

“Karen!” He jumped up and came round his desk. At that moment she pushed the door open all the way and brought the baby in.

“My goodness, a new associate! Sign her up,” he said with a huge grin. “Ah, what a cutie. Edlyn’s the name, right?”

“Only legally. Eden to the real world.” She explained.

“Just looking at her takes me back twenty years. No. More. Shana’s twenty-six. But I remember as clear as yesterday the day she was born. She was a beautiful baby.” He looked back at Karen. “And how are you? We got the birth announcement, of course. You must feel on top of the world. Was it an easy delivery? Tell me all.” He motioned her to a chair.

Ignoring his remark about feeling on top of the world, she described her postpartum infection and assured him that she was fully recovered.

“Yikes, that sounds scary. In the old days they used to have epidemics like that, with high mortality. The doctors themselves were spreading the bacteria. That was before they even knew what bacteria were. Anyway, now we have antibiotics. You were lucky, I’d say.”

“Yeah. When the OB told me what all might have happened . . . ”

“I’m glad nothing did. It’s good to see you. Be sure to stay in touch.”

“We both thank you, and I think your new associate has sprung a leak. Also, she’ll need to be refilled. So I’d better run along.”

With her baby only a month old, Karen felt squeamish about broaching the subject of returning to work. Frank had not committed himself, but he had invited her to stay in touch. Declining his offer to leave her alone in his office to attend to the baby’s needs, she left.