Jacqueline Diamond - A Baby for the Doctor

“Yes, it can.” Dr. Cavill-Hunter—who’d expanded her name after her marriage last month—answered in a level, nonjudgmental tone. “St. John’s wort decreases the level of estrogen in the body, which reduces the effectiveness of the pill.”

Anya smacked her forehead. “That’s why I’m pregnant.”

“Not entirely,” the doctor said wryly.

True, there’d been no immaculate conception. If only she and Jack had used a condom, too. But in the heat of the moment, they hadn’t been able to find one.

Now here she was, stuck in a massive, life-changing situation that Anya couldn’t wrap her mind around, except for one important point. “I can’t have a baby by myself.”

“Many women do,” the doctor said gently.

“Not me.” Just supervising her three younger sisters had often overwhelmed Anya.

She still had nightmares about one afternoon when she was twelve. After her mother’s arthritis had worsened, it had been Anya’s responsibility to walk the seven-year-old triplets home from school each day. But Anya’s period had arrived unexpectedly and she had to borrow a pad from a teacher, causing her to be late. When she finally arrived at the elementary school, there’d been no sign of Andi, Sandi or Sarah. For a painful half hour, as she traced the path they should have taken home, frightening scenes from TV newscasts had rolled through her mind. What if someone had taken them?

Realizing they might have stopped for a snack at their grandmother’s house around the corner, Anya had run there and rung the bell with her heart pounding. Her grandma’s gaze had been reproving, but she’d been greatly relieved to find her sisters safe.

Until she faced her father’s fury later that night. You need to take your responsibilities seriously. Why can’t we depend on you to do things right?

Dr. Cavill-Hunter asked a question, jerking Anya back to the present. The doctor had asked about the father and was waiting for an answer. Anya said sharply, “We aren’t even dating. It was a mistake. Do you have any resources about adoption?”

“You can take several avenues in that regard.” Choosing her words carefully, the doctor continued. “But there’s no reason to rush this decision. This is a shock. It’s wise to consider what it means to have a child and what kind of family support you might receive.”

Anya shuddered at the thought of her family. Returning to Colorado this past Christmas to visit her parents and six siblings had reawakened painful old feelings and reminded her forcefully of why she’d moved to California. “Forget that.”

The obstetrician didn’t argue. “All right. You can choose a private adoption—either open, with continuing contact, or closed. Or perhaps you have a family member who might take the child.”

“No family.” Nor did Anya care to deal with a social worker. This was her decision, and she wouldn’t be lectured or questioned about her motives. “Can you recommend a lawyer?”

“The hospital’s staff attorney could give you a list of family attorneys in the community.” The obstetrician cleared her throat. “I’m adopting a child myself, a relative. We’re using a lawyer named Geoff Humphreys.”

That name rang a bell. “His associate is handling Zora’s divorce.” She’d have to tell her roommate anyway, so that seemed convenient. “Thanks for mentioning him.”

“There’s something else.” The doctor laced her fingers. “As I’m sure the attorney will inform you, the father has to sign a waiver of parental rights before the child can be released for adoption.”

“He what?” Anya would pull all her hair out by the roots before she’d involve that—what was the legal term she’d read?—casual inseminator.

Okay, that wasn’t fair to Jack, although other nurses had described him as a playboy. In her observation, his dramatically good looks simply attracted a lot of women. In her case, despite their joking around in the O.R., he’d always kept a respectful distance. Until New Year’s Eve.

That night, while they were dancing at the party, she’d imagined she saw a spark of tenderness in his gorgeous, sparkling green eyes. That, combined with a couple of unaccustomed drinks, had worked magic on her nervous system. Plus, she’d been feeling lonely and estranged from her family after that unhappy Christmas visit.

Jack had been wonderful in bed, fierce and gentle and very skilled. Too skilled, maybe. Anya hadn’t had much time for men in her younger years, and her college boyfriend had been sweet but fumbling. Now, her vulnerability scared her. Losing control of her emotions reminded her of how little power she’d had over her life until she left Colorado two years ago.

So over the past few weeks, she’d kept things cool with him, strictly business. He’d gone along at first, as embarrassed as she was, she supposed. Then he’d started flirting again. But she doubted he meant anything by it. He was notorious for avoiding relationships.

And now she needed his permission to choose adoption for her—their—baby? “It’s outrageous,” she added for good measure.

“It may seem unfair, but that’s the law,” Adrienne said. “Discuss this with your lawyer. I’m sure he can handle the paperwork.”

“So Doctor...Mister Dad gets the news via the U.S. mail?” That was likely to provoke unpleasant repercussions. “I’ll deal with him some other way.”

Judging by the obstetrician’s expression, she hadn’t missed the reference to a doctor. She let it go, returning to the pregnancy.

“Based on the dates you gave me, you’re about six weeks along, which means you’re due in mid to late September,” she said. “In case you’re interested, the baby’s eyes and limb buds are starting to appear at this stage.”

Too much information. Anya performed the mental equivalent of closing her ears and skipped to a more bearable topic. “Six weeks? It’s only been five weeks since we...since conception.”

“We measure pregnancies from the date of the last menstrual period,” the doctor reminded her.

“Oh. Right.” All this theoretical knowledge seemed quite different when you were the patient, Anya reflected glumly. “I haven’t had any morning sickness. Well, maybe a tiny bit. I thought it was some chorizo I ate.”

“Let’s talk about a healthy diet during pregnancy,” the doctor said, seizing on the topic. “Or are you already familiar with all this?”

Being a scrub nurse, Anya didn’t deal with maternity on a regular basis. Also, in her state of shock, she could scarcely recall her own phone number, let alone the rules for moms-to-be. “Refresh my memory. Do I have to eat anything weird?”

“Depends on what you consider weird.”

“Seaweed?”

Adrienne smiled. “That won’t be necessary, although seaweed is quite nutritious. It’s a rich source of antioxidants and vitamins.”

Anya wrinkled her nose.

“You can skip it, though,” the doctor said. “Be sure to include plenty of fruits and vegetables in your diet. No alcohol or tobacco, no raw fish such as sushi, and avoid soft cheeses. They can carry bacteria.”

“I can’t eat Brie?” That sounded cruel to Anya. Another mark against Jack. Someone ought to deprive him of Brie for the next eight months.

Oh, don’t be childish.

“If the milk’s pasteurized, it should be safe,” the doctor said. “Cut out caffeine, or at least cut back. No undercooked meat or paté, and limit your fish consumption to twelve ounces a week in case of mercury contamination.”

This discussion set Anya’s stomach churning. “Can you give me a list?”

“I’d be happy to.” From a drawer, the obstetrician fetched several pamphlets and a prescription pad. “Also, we advise that you avoid changing kitty litter because of toxoplasmosis, a disease that sometimes infects cats and can harm the baby. Do you have a pet?”