After four weeks of working day and night and burning the candle at both ends, Sarah caught a terrible cold at the end of January. She had never been as sick in her life, and after a week of cold and fever that kept her home, it then turned into stomach flu, and she spent the next four days in the bathroom. Jeff felt sorry for her, and kept bringing her soup, orange juice, or tea. It all made her even sicker, and finally she just lay in bed moaning.

“I think I'm dying,” she said to him, as tears rolled down her cheeks. He felt helpless, and at the end of the second week he told her she had to go to the doctor. She was planning to, and had an appointment the following morning. She called her mother that night, complaining about how awful she felt, as Audrey listened to her long list of symptoms.

“Maybe you're pregnant,” Audrey said matter-of-factly.

“That's not funny. I have a cold, Mom. Not morning sickness.”

“I had colds the whole time I was pregnant with you. It's something about your immune system lowering so you don't reject the baby. And you said you've been throwing up for the past four days.”

“From stomach flu, not a baby.” She was annoyed at her mother's casual and obviously inept diagnosis.

“Why don't you check it out. These days that's very easy.”

“I know what I've got. I have the Asian flu, or consumption or something. Everyone at the office has it.”

“It was just a thought. All right, then go to the doctor.”

“I am. In the morning.” She lay in bed afterward, annoyed at what her mother had said, and silently calculating. Her period was two days late, but that often happened to her when she got sick. She wasn't even worried. Or she hadn't been, until she talked to her mother. Now she was, and she lay in bed thinking about it. That would be truly awful. It was the last thing she wanted. She had a great life, a terrific career, a man she loved, a wonderful house. And she did not want a baby.

She got so nervous about it finally that she got up, dressed, and drove to the nearest drugstore, where she bought a pregnancy test. Jeff wasn't home yet. Feeling stupid for even doing it, she followed the directions, did the test, left it on her sink, went back to bed, and turned on the TV. She'd almost forgotten about it half an hour later, and went back to her bathroom to see what the results were. She knew they were going to be not pregnant. She had been careful all her life, and aside from one or two scares when she was in college, she had never played baby roulette. She wasn't on the Pill. But with rare exceptions, she and Jeff were always careful, except at the right time of month, when she knew she had no worries.

She picked up the test with a smug look, glanced at it, looked again, and then fumbled in the garbage for the instructions. There were two lines on the test, and she suddenly couldn't remember if there were supposed to be one or two if she wasn't pregnant. The diagram stated it clearly so anyone could read it. One line, not pregnant. Two lines, pregnant. She looked again. Two lines. There was a mistake. It was a false positive. The test was defective. There was a second test in the box, so she used it. This time she stood tapping her foot, with a knot in her stomach, staring at herself in the mirror while she waited. She looked awful. This was ridiculous. She wasn't pregnant. She was dying. She glanced at her watch, then looked at the test. Two lines again. She stared at herself in the mirror again and saw herself go sheet white.

“Oh my God…oh my GOD! This isn't happening!” she shouted at the mirror. “I AM NOT !” But the test said she was. She threw both of them in the garbage, and then walked around her bathroom with her arms crossed, hugging herself. This was the worst news of her life. “SHIT!” she shouted out loud, and as she did, Jeff walked into the bathroom, looking worried. He had just come home from the office. Her mother was right.

“Are you okay? Were you talking to someone?” He thought maybe she was on the phone. She looked awful.

“No. No. I'm fine.” She brushed past him, went back to bed, and dug herself under the covers.

“Do you want to go to the hospital? Do you feel that bad?”

“I feel worse,” she said, nearly shouting at him.

“Then let's go. Don't wait till tomorrow, you'll just get sicker. You probably need antibiotics.” He was of the old school that still believed they cured all. He had been urging her to get some all week.

“I don't need antibiotics,” she said, glaring at him.

“Is something wrong? I mean other than that you're sick?” He felt sorry for her. The poor thing had been feeling awful for two weeks. It was depressing. But aside from that, he thought she was acting a little psycho. “How high is your fever?”

“I'm pregnant.” There was no point hiding it from him. She would have to tell him sooner or later. He just stared at her as though he didn't understand what she'd said. Neither did she.

“What?”

“I'm pregnant.” She started to cry as she said it. Her life was over. This was a nightmare. She still felt sick. In fact, she felt worse. He sat down on the foot of the bed.

“Are you serious?” He didn't know what else to say. He could see that she did not consider this good news. She looked like she was about to jump off the roof.

“No, I'm kidding. I always kid about suicidal events in my life. Of course I'm serious. How the hell did that happen? We're always so careful. We never slip.”

“Yes, we do,” he said honestly.

“Well, not at the wrong time. I'm not stupid. I know better than that. And so do you.”

He was thinking back, and suddenly looked sheepish. “I think it might have happened the night of your grandmother's wedding.”

“No, it didn't. We went right to sleep.”

“We woke up in the middle of the night,” he corrected her. “I think you may have been half asleep …I didn't force myself on you,” he said, looking unhappy. “We just kind of… did it… and went back to sleep.” She did a rapid calculation, and groaned audibly. That had to be it. If they had wanted to plan it, they couldn't have hit it better. Or in this case, worse.

“Was I out of my mind? How much did I have to drink?”

“You had a few drinks… and a lot of champagne, I guess.” He smiled at her lovingly. “You seemed fine to me, but you were a little out of it in the middle of the night…. You looked so cute. I couldn't resist.”

“Oh my God,” she said, jumping out of bed again and pacing around the room. “I can't goddamned believe this. I'm almost forty years old, and I'm pregnant. Pregnant!”

“You're not too old, Sarah … and maybe this is something to think about… maybe it's our last chance. Our only chance. Maybe this isn't such bad news.” It wasn't to him. To her it was dire.

“Are you crazy? What do we need with a baby? We don't want a baby. I don't at least. I never did. I told you that right from the beginning. I never lied to you.”

“No, you didn't,” he said fairly. “But to be honest, I'd love to have our kids.”

“Then you have it. I won't.” She was storming around, looking like she wanted to kill someone, preferably him. But in her head, she was blaming herself.

“Look, it's your body. You have to do whatever you feel you have to do… I'm just telling you how I feel about it. I love you. I'd love to have a baby with you,” he said kindly.

“Why? It would ruin our life. We have a nice life. A perfect life. A baby would just screw it up.” She was in tears.

He looked sad as he watched her. He had been here before. Marie-Louise had had two abortions with him. And for the only time since they'd been together, Sarah was sounding like Marie-Louise. It wasn't a memory he wanted to revisit. He got up and put his briefcase in his office. When he got back, Sarah was back in bed, sulking. She didn't speak to him for several hours. He offered to make her dinner, and she said she was too sick to eat.

Gingerly, he suggested that until they figured out what they were doing, she should. She told him to go to hell.

“I have figured it out. I'm going to kill myself. I don't need to eat.”

He went downstairs, ate by himself, and afterward came back upstairs. When he did, she was asleep, and in her sleep, she looked as sweet as ever. He knew it had been a hell of a shock for her. He wanted her to keep their baby, but he couldn't force her to do it. He knew she had to make that decision herself.

She was sullen and silent at the breakfast table the next day. He offered her breakfast, and she made tea and toast for herself. She hardly said a word. She left for her doctor's appointment, and she never called him. She was already at home when he got back that night, and he could see how upset she was. The doctor had obviously confirmed it. Jeff said nothing, and she went back to bed. She was asleep by nine o'clock, and the next morning, she looked better. She apologized to him at breakfast.

“I'm sorry I've been such a witch. I just need to think this out for myself. I don't know what to do. The doctor said if I ever want a baby, I should probably go ahead with it now at my age. I really don't. But maybe one day I will…or I'll regret it if I don't have one. I just never wanted a kid. In fact, I very much didn't want a kid. But if I ever did want one, I'd want it with you,” she said, and started to cry. Jeff walked around the breakfast table and took her in his arms.

“Do whatever you need to do. I love you. I'd love to have our baby. But I love you. If you really don't want a kid, I can live with that. It's up to you.” His being so nice about it only made it harder for her. She nodded, blew her nose, and cried when he left for work. She had never been so confused and unhappy in her life.

It went on for two weeks. She ranted. She raged. She tortured herself and browbeat him. Somehow he managed to stay calm. He only lost his temper once, and was sorry he did. It had been the same with Marie-Louise, and in the end, she got rid of it, both times. But Sarah wasn't Marie-Louise. She was just angry and upset and terrified. She didn't feel ready to be a mother, and didn't want to condemn a child to an unhappy life. He offered to marry her, which frightened her even more. All the ghosts of her past had come back to haunt her, mostly her own miserable childhood, and her father. But Jeff wasn't him. He was a good man, and she knew it.

It took her nearly three weeks, and then she made a decision. She never told her mother, or anyone. She figured it out for herself. It was the scariest thing she'd ever done in her life. She told him she wouldn't marry him, for now anyway, but she wanted to have their child. Jeff almost cried when she said it. And they made love for the first time in a month that night. By then, she was two months pregnant, or very nearly. Three weeks later they went to the first sonogram together, and there it was. A little blip with a heartbeat. Everything was normal. It was due on the twenty-first of September. Jeff had never been so excited in his life.

It took Sarah longer to get used to the idea. But the first time she felt it move, she lay in bed and smiled and told him it felt weird. He went to all her sonograms, even the one at five months where they saw it sucking its thumb. He went to the amnio with her, and four weeks later, they told them it was healthy and a boy. By the time she was six months pregnant, she didn't feel ready, but she was glad. She thanked him for putting up with her neuroses and terrors. From then on, she was fine. It was their baby, not just hers. She had told her mother and Mimi, and everyone was excited. He had offered to marry her several times, but that was too much for her right now. She told him one thing at a time. First, the baby, then they'd see. Jeff was almost beside himself with excitement, knowing that he and Sarah were having a son. He told her it was the greatest gift of his life.

They were walking down Union Street one Saturday in August, when Sarah was eight months pregnant, when they ran into Phil. She almost didn't recognize him at first, and then she did, and he saw her. He looked surprised, and was with a girl who looked about twenty-five. She hadn't seen him in over a year and a half.

“Wow, what happened to you?” he said, smiling. All she could remember was the last time she'd seen him, in bed with someone else. She had never seen him again.

“I have no idea,” she said, looking blank. “I went to this fabulous party about eight months ago, I got drunk out of my mind, and the next thing I knew, I woke up and looked like this. What do you think it is?” The girl with him was laughing. Phil looked embarrassed to see her, as well he should.