“Perhaps.”
Becca fell onto the sofa along the opposite wall, tucking her bare feet underneath her. Will joined her there because he was exhausted, not because he felt any need to be closer to her.
“Did you call Dr. Anderson?” he asked.
She nodded. “I went to see her today.”
Will’s heart sank. He’d been hoping the doctor would build Becca’s confidence. Help change her mind about this godawful thing she was considering.
“And?”
Winding the bottom of her gown around her finger, Becca stared at the ankle she’d just exposed. He’d always loved her ankles. Didn’t matter where they were, a meeting, out to dinner, church in days gone by, if she was wearing a dress and hose, all he had to do was look at those delicate ankles to get turned on. They were even better at home. Naked.
“What did the doctor say, Becca?” he pressed. He didn’t want to think about Becca and nakedness. Getting her naked was what had gotten them into this mess in the first place.
“That I’m higher risk now than when I was twenty.”
That was to be expected.
“Did she advise against carrying the baby to term?”
Not quite meeting his eyes, Becca shook her head. “But she wouldn’t, Will, not knowing how hard we’ve tried.”
“She would if your life was at risk.”
Shrugging, she returned her attention to the hem of her gown. “She said I might very possibly miscarry. And if I don’t, we can expect problems with my blood pressure.”
“Abnormal problems?” He knew a lot of women dealt with blood pressure concerns during pregnancy. Knew, too, that most could be treated simply and safely with medication.
She glanced up and back down quickly. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What else did she say?” He wanted the facts. All of them. If Becca’s life was truly in danger, there was no decision to make.
“That I’d have to slow down.”
He refrained from telling her they could accommodate her there. She knew that already.
“There’s an increased risk of birth defects.”
“There’s always a risk of birth defects,” he acknowledged, turning cold at the thought. “Even for women in their twenties. But there are tests they can do to determine a lot of these things fairly early on, ways to prevent some of them.”
He couldn’t deny the frightening possibility that he and Becca might not have a normal child, but there was also every possibility that they would. Women in their forties were having babies—healthy babies—all the time now.
And if they were meant to be parents, they’d have to take whatever they were given. That was how life worked. He wished they could be guaranteed a perfect baby; who wouldn’t? But nothing in life came with guarantees, not even the certainty of life itself.
“I’d be willing to bet that if you asked the parents of handicapped children if they’d rather they’d terminated the pregnancy than had that child, most of them would tell you no.”
She didn’t respond.
“There’s a chance of kidney or bladder stress, as Dr. Hall said,” Becca’s voice, falling into the silence a minute or two later, jarred him out of his thoughts.
“A serious chance?” he asked.
Becca shook her head slightly. “Dr. Anderson didn’t seem overly concerned. It was more that she felt it her duty to warn me, I think.”
Confused, frustrated beyond anything he’d ever known before, Will stared at his wife, wishing he had access to more wisdom than he possessed. Were they dealing with a normal over-forty birth, or was there a greater risk, something she wasn’t telling h
im?