Obstetrix(41)

“A woman’s body won’t grow a baby that’s too big for her to deliver,” Sarah said, serenely, which is a line you’ll sometimes hear from natural birth advocates. (It is straight up not true.) “The position of the baby is the most important factor in natural birth, and if need be, you can perform a C-section.”

If there’d been any Depo-Provera in the cabinet, I’d have been tempted to try to give Bethany the shot, to at least buy time before she could get pregnant. But there wasn’t; also, Sarah was watching me very closely today.

Bethany was overall in good health. If she’d arrived in my office pregnant, due to consensual sexual activity with a boy her actual age, I’d have gone down the list of risks to be aware of, warned her that girls her age were more likely to give birth prematurely, referred her to resources for teen mothers, and expected things to probably go fine. What appalled me here was the knowledge that she hadn’t chosen this, the adults around her had chosen this, and she was going to be forced to go through a pregnancy while still absolutely a child, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.



* * *



ONE WEEK BEFORE BETHANY’S birthday, overnight, I woke to a loud, urgent knock at my door. I got up and found myself face-to-face with Joy, in a nightgown with boots underneath and an unzipped coat over top. Calum had been standing guard overnight and was trailing after her. “You’re supposed to go to the clinic and have me get—” he was yelling.

“Hello, Sister Joy,” I said. “Is everything okay?”

“I think I’m having contractions,” she said. “I mean, I think they’re different.”

Calum’s face was flushed with fury; he grabbed her arm and she shook him off. “Brother Calum!” she said. “You’re not to touch me, I am David’s wife!”

“Then you should be listening to me!” he snapped. He wasn’t reaching for the gun slung over his shoulder, but I was suddenly, acutely aware of its presence. I straightened my spine, cleared my throat, and gave him a long, steady glare. He was young enough I thought this might work, and in fact, he fell back a half step. “Sister Joy, I am going to go get Pastor. And Brother David. And Sister Sarah,” he said.

“Of course,” I said. “Sister Joy, I need to change into scrubs, so why don’t you sit down while I do that.” Calum had fallen back just enough to let me close my door on him; I turned to Joy, who wordlessly grabbed my hand. I could feel the crinkle of paper against my palm. Her face was blotchy and as I watched, she bent over with a gasp. Real contractions, all right.

“Sit,” I said. “I’ll get my scrubs on as fast as I can. How long have you been having these?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice rough. “I mean, I’ve been having contractions. When I realized these were different, I realized they’d been different for a while. It crept up on me.”

I leaned into my wardrobe to pull out scrubs, and unfolded the note.

There’s a plan to get out of here but my surgery is the distraction. You have to make it last as long as you can. They’ll tell someone about you they promise. Please don’t tell.



I wondered how many women were in on this plan. Or maybe it wasn’t just women? Jason was probably in on it. I tucked the note into my bra next to my other notes, then changed into scrubs as fast as I could. “Let’s go,” I said, but the door banged open before we could leave. Pastor John strode in, with Joy’s husband David at his heels.

At the sight of her father, Joy dissolved into silent, fearful sobs. “I’m worried about the baby, Daddy,” she gasped. “I think it might be coming. It’s too early, isn’t it? It’s so early.”

The pastor’s anger faded and was replaced with exasperation. “What do you think Doc Elizabeth is going to be able to tell you from here, Sunshine? It’s her house, it’s where she sleeps. You’re supposed to have her meet you at the clinic.”

“I don’t mind,” I said, mustering as much good cheer as I could, surrounded by cold air and angry men. “Let’s just all go over together.” I turned to Brother David and swung straight into the patter I used when meeting a father who hadn’t come to the prenatal appointments. “You must be Brother David, Sister Joy’s husband! It’s a pleasure to meet you. You must be so excited. Are you nervous at all? Because that’s as normal for fathers as it is for mothers, especially with a first baby.”

“Not really,” he said. “I mean, I’m not nervous. I guess I’m excited.” He glanced over at Pastor John.

I had a little speech I’d given a few times to husbands with male-factor infertility who’d confessed, or made me think they wanted to confess, that they were afraid their donor-conceived child wouldn’t feel like theirs. You will be the father in every way that matters. You are going to look at this baby and see your son. He’s going to look at you and see his daddy. It will be okay, I promise. I didn’t get the sense that David would be a receptive audience. I tried not to think about what Joy had just told me, that maybe—maybe!—someone would escape and send back help.

It was snowing: wet, heavy snow mixed with rain. If anyone was going to try to walk to safety, I hoped they knew what they were doing. I led the way over to the clinic, where Sarah had unlocked the door and turned on the lights. “We’ll take good care of you,” she said to Joy.