Chapter 1: Perfectly Safe

Carolyn Pierce saw that one advantage she’d lost by going off the Pill was that they had regulated her periods strictly by the calendar. Now, the calendar told her that her period was due. Her body didn’t particularly agree. Well, better safe than sorry. She inserted a tampon and went out of the bathroom in her nightgown. When she took out the tampon that morning, it was dry. She repeated the process the next night with the same result. Well, this had happened before, although this time a pregnancy was something she wanted. It was something Bill wanted, too, and -- since it was far from certain -- she shouldn’t tell him of her suspicions. It might get his hopes up. Still, messy sheets were a small risk and continuation of sex was a great reward. She didn’t insert the tampon, and she brought her hairbrush out with her when she came out of the bathroom in only her robe and slippers.

“Want to brush my hair tonight?” Bill had the quirk of loving to brush her hair. It was one of many weirdnesses about him, and perhaps the most pleasant.

“Delighted.” And he brushed it thoroughly, until there was no snarl left. She adjusted the air conditioner before they went to bed. A slightly warmer room would be more comfortable tonight. She pulled the sheet down to the foot of the bed, dropped her robe, and came to bed naked.

“Darling,” he said. Mr. Foreplay was notably present that night. She flew twice before she asked for him, and once more at a reasonably mutual climax.

“I’ve missed you,” he said when they were in their final spoon with the lamp turned off. He spoke as if the separation had been a continent, rather than her nightie.

“Sorry.” It was the closest she would ever come to telling him that the precautions hadn’t been necessary.

“Don’t be.” Bill could be awfully understanding at times. He could be totally unsympathetic at other times. The understanding times were more commonly post-coital.

The next month, when the calendar told her she needed a tampon and her body disagreed, she went with her body. A few (dry) days later, she called her ob-gyn.

“Dr. Gabel’s office.”

“I was a patient of the doctor once before. I think I might be pregnant and want an appointment.”

“Yes ma’am, and your name.”

“I was Carolyn Nolan for my last appointment, but I’m Carolyn Pierce now.” She spelled both names. The nurse, or receptionist, gave her an appointment on a Wednesday.

She went in, took a jar to the bathroom and returned it nearly full of her urine, sat and waited. Then she was taken to an examining room and handed a gown. She stripped and put on the (totally inadequate) gown. She waited some more. Dr. Gabel finally came in. He gave her a thorough physical, although not gynecological, examination.

“Now, you say you think you might be pregnant. We’ll send the sample to a lab to get more certain results, but why do you think so?”

“I’ve missed two periods.”

“Ever happen before?” Which wasn’t a particularly precise question. In her case, its ambiguity split on the facts.

“One period, yes. Two, no.”

“Any great weight change over the last two months.”

“Four pounds.” And, if she were pregnant, should she stick to her diet?

“We gave you a prescription for birth-control pills. Have you been taking them?”

“I went off them four months ago.”

“Why? Were they unsatisfactory?”

“We decided to have a baby.”

“Very good.” He gestured her up on the examining table. This time, the examination was quite intimately gynecological. He stepped back and gestured for her to extricate herself from the stirrups and sit up.

“Well, we have a sample that we’ll send to the lab. That will give us more certain findings. Everything I’ve seen, however, and everything you’ve told me is consistent with your being pregnant. Let’s assume now that you are. Do you have any questions?”

No more than two million, but he wasn’t going to answer that many, and she couldn’t really articulate them, anyway, but -- if she could ask it -- there was one that applied to tonight.

“Well, I wonder what changes I’ll have to make in relations with my husband.” Carolyn, brave Carolyn, frank Carolyn, afraid to say “sex” to a doctor -- one who had, after all, prescribed her contraceptive pills.

“Well, that’s a simple question, but I’m going to use it as an opportunity for a long answer. You’re the end of a million-year evolutionary string. That’s a direct female line with 50,00 ancestors. Some were tall, some short; some were strong, some weak; some were pretty, some ugly. They had only one thing in common. Every single one of them managed to deliver a baby who survived.

“Things can go wrong, and we’ll take reasonable precautions that they don’t in your case, but you have that record on your side. Don’t worry too much. Your baby is, at this moment, the size of a pea. It’s floating in a sac of water. This sac, not particularly fragile in itself, is surrounded by a large mass of muscle, the uterus. In nine months, the muscle will have to stretch out to contain a much greater volume, but -- even stretched out -- it will be a strong wall of muscle. Right now, it’s incredibly thick and strong. And it is within you, surrounded by the ribs, abdominal muscles, and pelvic floor.

“Anything physical which can hurt your baby will hurt you first. As your pregnancy advances, some sexual activity will become physically uncomfortable for you. At that time, abandon that activity. Until then, it’s perfectly safe for your fetus. Now, there are a few exceptions to this.”

“What?” He seemed to want that question. He’d been watching her as he spoke, judging how much of what he said was penetrating.

“The first one is risk. If you make love on top of a step ladder fifty times without discomfort and fall off the fifty-first time, the fall will hurt you, and is likely to hurt your child.

“The second one is experimentation. If you use the woman-on-top position once a week, one of these days it will cause you discomfort. If you stop then, it won’t endanger your fetus. If you try the experiment in your ninth month, I’ll guarantee that it will cause you discomfort. It might well endanger your fetus, too. Use a little common sense about experimentation. Some time, you might find the rear-entry position the only one that’s the least bit comfortable.

“These two exceptions aren’t common risks, really. Most people have common sense about such things. Still, doctors like to have advised their patients instead of assuming that they know things. The third one is more serious. All that wrapping and protection doesn’t protect against chemicals. If you have something in your bloodstream, it will reach your fetus. I’d advise cutting back on alcohol, nicotine, and caffeine. If you use something stronger, you should cut it right out.”