Fertility: A Novel (19 page)

Sarah came to her mother’s defense. “Mom’s right, Bubbe. I wanted to tell you myself. And I want to thank you for your offer to help once the baby’s born. I’m sure I’ll need all the help I can get. I’ve been reading books but I bet you and Mom have a corner on the market for baby care tips,” Sarah said, wondering why it was so much easier to talk to her grandmother about the baby than it was her parents.

“Okay. I forkive you, but you gotta promise. No more secrets,” Rivka insisted, pointing her finger first at Eva and then at Sarah. “I’m serious,” she scolded them both, though it was clear who she felt deserved the lion’s share of blame.

“Momma, it wasn’t my news to tell. But I promise to keep you up-to-date on all the developments I know about,” Eva said as she turned off the burner and covered the saucepan.

“Vell, okay den,” Rivka said, ready to move on. “Sarah, about advice vit de babies, de books can help sometimes. I read Dockta Spock ven I raist your mudda and Uncle Max. But common sense is de best. Today I tink de mommas go a liddle bit crazy vit da babies. I see dem in de elevator in my buildink. Everytink has to be perfect. Dey have to have all de equipment. Dey forget babies have been born for tousants of years, fancy strollas or no fancy strollas. Vit luck, dey all grow up.”

“Well, Bubbe, I’ll be calling you for the common sense part. I promise not to go too crazy on the stroller decision,” Sarah said.

Eva held her tongue and let her mother engage Sarah in the conversation about the baby. She had plenty to do to get everything ready for the family dinner. So far, the preparations had kept her busy enough to keep at bay her worries about how her brother and sister-in-law would take the news of Sarah’s pregnancy.

Dinner went reasonably well. Though shocked that the family’s golden girl was on her way to becoming a single mother, Max and Ellen offered both congratulations and some baby equipment that was taking up space in their attic. Aaron and David, their teenaged sons, took the news with a mix of embarrassment and disgust. As soon as they sensed they wouldn’t provoke their mother’s wrath, they escaped to the family room to watch a football game.

Eva loved Sarah’s gift and was genuinely touched that Sarah had remembered how much she’d liked that purse. The memory of that breezy, warm, early September day at Lincoln Center was a momentary reprieve from the disappointment and worry she’d felt since. Eva knew she needed to take a page from her mother’s book when it came to Sarah’s pregnancy. As they were doing the dishes together in the kitchen, Rivka said, “Vat’s done is done.
Gott
villing, it vill be a nice little baby. Ve vill all love it. Vun vay or de udda, it vill vork out, you’ll see, Eva.” Of all of the presents Eva got that day, it was that one she valued most.

* * *

Sarah saved her college friends for last. They were scattered across the country, and only one was married and had a child. The rest were toiling in the fields of their respective professions and bemoaning the dearth of men interested in settling down. Upon hearing the news of Sarah’s pregnancy, they all voiced their congratulations and support, despite harboring misgivings about managing a job and a baby alone. It was only Devorah — the one friend privy to her infertility diagnosis — who was floored when Sarah told her she was pregnant. With a Ph.D. in public health under her belt, Devorah had found Sarah her doctors, Dr. Farouzhan in Boston and Dr. Scholl in New York. She alone understood why Sarah was having this baby, father or no father. Given the same circumstances, she knew she would make the same choice and said as much. After hanging up from that call, Sarah was certain Devorah was the closest thing to a sister she would ever know.

* * *

As the months passed, Eva and Joseph slowly came to accept their new normal. The concerns they had were gradually counterbalanced by a growing anticipation of the baby’s arrival. In November, Eva came to the city each week for Sarah’s birthing classes. Sarah had asked her mother to be her labor coach, which soothed Eva’s pain at being kept at arm’s length for so long. Joseph drove her down to the city on Tuesday nights, so he was tangentially needed as well. On their trip back home each week, Eva gave him a blow-by-blow description of what they had covered during the class. It was the first time in a long time that they had been so much a part of their daughter’s life. Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, it pleased them very much.

In December, as Sarah entered her ninth month, she methodically began handing off her responsibilities to the junior associates she and Harry had singled out to carry on her work. She was set to begin the firm’s standard three-month maternity leave on or around her mid-January due date. With considerable encouragement from Harry, she also requested a half-time leave for three additional months. He assured her that her place in the associates’ pecking order was secure, and that the leave would do nothing to dissuade him, when the time came, from championing her bid for partnership. Sarah could have kissed him, but instead, she thanked him effusively and repeatedly until he finally told her to get back to work or he would change his mind.

Doris hosted a baby shower on the Friday afternoon before Christmas. Sarah asked that her parents and grandmother be invited. Eva was brought to tears by Doris’s beautifully hand-lettered invitation. On the appointed day, Eva and Rivka arrived first, welcomed by Doris as honored guests. When the tall, curly-haired Joseph emerged from the elevator after parking the car, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was Sarah Abadhi’s father.

Sarah had always viewed the showers to celebrate a co-worker’s upcoming wedding or expected child as interruptions in her workday. They were routinely held in the firm’s largest conference room, with its wall of windows looking out to the East River and beyond. She had always attended, brought a nice gift and stayed just long enough not to be considered rude.

However, it was something of a revelation to be the guest of honor at her own shower. As she sat at the head of the long conference table, her colleagues seemed genuinely pleased to be there. It didn’t hurt that Harry had contributed liberally to Doris’s budget and that the refreshments were both ample and delectable. Beyond that, Sarah sensed that people to whom she had been pleasant and businesslike over the years had come happily, bearing thoughtful gifts for her baby. Harry’s wife, Toby, had hand-stitched a quilt for the baby, starting work on it after learning Sarah was pregnant.

The outpouring by Sarah’s colleagues gave Eva and Joseph a small window into their daughter’s life at work. After witnessing the kindness and generosity showered on her, whatever misgivings they still harbored about her pregnancy gave way. The baby gifts filled the trunks of Joseph’s and Harry’s cars, requiring a second round trip by Joseph to get everything delivered to Sarah’s third-floor walk-up apartment.

* * *

Although the firm was closed for the week between Christmas and New Year’s, Sarah came into the office several times in order to leave all of her projects in good shape — just in case she went into labor early. Afterwards, she went home and wrote heartfelt thank-you notes for the gifts she’d received. She put each present in its appointed place: the wall hanging above the crib, the hooded bath towels in the linen closet. The dresser Bubbe Rivka had insisted on buying for her first great-grandchild was soon filled with tiny outfits that would carry the baby through its first year of life. Joseph and Eva had gone stroller shopping with Sarah and purchased her favorite, a jogging stroller that would allow her to resume her runs after the baby was born. The apartment quickly filled in anticipation of the arrival of its new occupant.

By the end of the week, Sarah had her thank-you notes in the mail and her projects at work ready to hand off. She spent New Year’s Eve with her parents, Bubbe Rivka, Aunt Ellen and Uncle Max and her parents’ closest friends. She was the youngest person at the gathering by a good twenty years. But being surrounded by people who had known her for so long made her feel safe and secure as she approached the birth of her child. Many of the female guests offered Sarah pointers about caring for the baby. No one woke either Sarah or her bubbe as they dozed off, side by side in their armchairs, long before the crystal ball dropped amid the throngs of revelers in Times Square.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ten days before the baby was due, Sarah awakened to the clock radio at five-fifteen. It was a dark January morning and the weather report was discouraging: record-breaking cold for the coming days with highs in the single digits. It was currently two degrees below zero and hours before dawn. Rather than get up and head off to the pool, Sarah rolled her round body over for another hour of sleep. This could be one of her last opportunities to sleep in. Only yesterday Dr. Scholl had declared her cervix to be one centimeter dilated. The Braxton Hicks contractions that came and went made it clear that she was in the home stretch now.

At six-thirty Sarah traded her warm bed for a long, leisurely shower. She emerged from the steamy bathroom and headed to her closet to choose from the lampshades and tents that passed for maternity clothes. This morning it would be the black maternity pantsuit that had lost whatever professional flair it’d had six weeks prior. At this point, there was no outfit that could mask the reality that her time was near.

She paired a mauve maternity turtleneck with the black suit. Though she found her office too hot these last months, a turtleneck was obligatory on a day like today. She’d also have to put on every bit of outerwear she owned before venturing out into the frigid streets: the polypropylene face mask she used for running, her wool scarf, knee socks, high shearling boots, mittens and hooded gray wool coat. She hoped that would be enough to fend off frostbite on the way to the office.

* * *

Three blocks from Sarah’s walk-up apartment, a different set of preparations were underway. Bobby O’Brien, wearing his thermal underwear, flannel-lined jeans, wool shirt, black fleece neck warmer and tan hooded jumpsuit, carried his lunchbox and thermos as he ascended to the cab of his sixty-five-ton crane. It was a bitterly cold day to jump the crane, but the developer had ants in his pants about getting the forty-three-story condo completed. They were on the eighteenth floor and they had to add two thirteen-foot sections to increase the crane’s height. After they got the sections in place they would have to brace the crane by positioning a six-ton steel collar around the outside of the crane’s tower at floor eighteen. The riggers would secure it to the tower and then tie it to the building with steel struts. Bobby felt bad for the riggers, who would be out in the open air during the whole operation. At least he’d be inside the cab — cold, still, but out of the wind. What a miserable day to be maneuvering a twelve-thousand-pound collar into place.

If it were up to Bobby, he’d wait for better weather, but he’d been in the business long enough to know that if he wanted to keep his job, he did what he was told. This was not the first time he had thought the boss was taking chances to keep on schedule, come hell or high water. He had made his peace long ago with the risks of his job. The truth was he loved being a crane operator. He’d dreamt of it since he had gotten his first Erector Set when he was eight years old. It was hard, technical work and he couldn’t space out for even a second. No matter what he was lifting or moving, he had to keep the crane balanced. There was nothing quite like the feeling of knowing exactly how to use the levers to maneuver the swing, the boom and the hoist. Sometimes, when he was sitting alone in his cab, high above the city, he felt he had the best job in the world. The money was nothing to sneeze at either. For a working stiff, he was doing pretty well: a house in Staten Island, nice vacations, a beautiful wife and two amazing kids. Bobby O’Brien had no complaints
.

* * *

Sarah felt she ought to eat breakfast, even though her appetite had dropped off in the last week. That morning she decided to make a fruit-and-yogurt smoothie and take what she couldn’t finish to the office. She sipped on a cup of hot mint tea, used the bathroom one last time and then began getting ready to face the elements. As she put on one layer after another, she thought about how much easier it would be to be pregnant in a warm climate. As she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the way out the door, she was struck by how little she resembled the woman she’d been nine months earlier. It gave her a moment’s pause.

At seven-fifteen she headed down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor. Using all her strength, she pushed against the icy gusts that were forcing shut the front door. As she emerged from the building, she pulled her scarf up to her eyes and headed west toward Park Avenue and the luxury buildings’ heated porticos that would provide brief moments of warmth during her mile-plus walk.

There were few people on the streets since nearly everyone had opted for some sort of conveyance to get where they were going. But Sarah was determined to get her daily exercise, below-zero temperatures or no. By the time she took refuge in the revolving door of her office building, her feet and hands were so cold they ached. Still, her discomfort was eased by knowing she’d achieved a small victory over the miserable weather.

Since returning from the holiday break, she’d finished up the policy changes for the hospital accused of complicity in organ trafficking. That case had turned out to be a nail-biter, with Sarah and Harry mounting a defense of the hospital before UNOS, the national administrator of organ procurement and transplantation. The UNOS board had ruled that while the hospital did not knowingly participate in the black market for organs, its donor screening policy was woefully inadequate. They had ordered a complete overhaul and Sarah had been integral to that compliance effort. She was fairly confident that the resulting new policy would keep the transplant program out of trouble for the foreseeable future.