Her Christmas Baby Bump

“I know you said you will only implant two eggs, but I still think we should implant more than that,” Angela said, clutching her husband’s hand. “I mean, it gives us a better chance of having one take, right? And if we ended up having multiple babies, we’d be more than happy about that.”

“You think now that you would, but multiples are harder on the mother’s body. More likely to lead to preterm birth with complications resulting from that, as well as serious birth defects. Not to mention that caring for triplets or quads can be harder than anyone imagines.”

Harder than his own biological mother ever imagined. Even harder on her children, ending with tough consequences for all of them.

“I know, but still. I feel like this could be our last chance. So why not, when we’re ready to accept whatever happens?”

The dormant emotion that occasionally surged to the surface and threatened his cool at times like this always took him by surprise. It had all happened so long ago, so why? Maybe he was like a sapling that had seeded next to barbed wire. He’d still managed to grow strong, absorbing it inside until it was invisible, but the sharp pain could still deeply stab when he least expected it.

He drew a long breath, battling to keep his voice calm. Firm and authoritative without verging on dictatorial. But he believed it was an important part of his job, a critical part, to help patients make responsible decisions, no matter how desperate they were for a baby.

“I appreciate that this has been a long and difficult process for both of you, Angela. And as I said before, if you want to work with another specialist who feels differently than I do on this subject, I will completely understand if you prefer to do that. You wouldn’t have to start all over again—there are several doctors in this hospital I can refer you to, giving them your history and information on the meds you’ve been taking. I would guess someone else would be available to do the ICSI procedure soon.”

“No,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Everyone has told us you’re the best at the ICSI procedure, Dr. Cartwright. I’m just...I’m worried that with only two eggs, none will take.”

“And I’m not going to deny that that’s possible, but we can try again, remember? One healthy, full-term baby, two at the most, is the goal.”

“Yes. A healthy baby is all we want.” She gave her husband a tremulous smile. “How long is nine months from next week? I better make sure everything’s ready.”

“Early August. A good birthday month, since it’s yours, too.” The return smile he gave her was strained. “Though everything’s been ready for a long time, hasn’t it?”

“A long time.”

Her voice quavered, and tears filled her eyes. Aaron handed her a tissue he pulled from the box he always kept next to him. The pain and depression, grief and failure that couples struggling with fertility problems felt was often profound. He’d do the best he could to help these two people have the baby they longed for.

And pray they’d be mentally and emotionally prepared for that baby when it came.

He resolutely shoved down the old, faded memories that for some damn reason insisted on resurfacing today and refocused on his patients. He was pretty confident that the ICSI procedure would work for them. That he wouldn’t need to nudge them to think about adoption, the way he did with couples unable to conceive even after medical science had tried everything.

Adoption. The word reminded him that Sue was waiting with his tux, and that, even though he was sure nobody would be worrying about his late arrival, he did want to speak earlier at the adoption fund-raiser he’d organized, rather than later. People loved seeing his slide presentation that showed foster kids becoming a permanent part of happy families, and were even more generous with their donations to plump the foundation’s coffers.

Aaron resisted the urge to glance at his watch. As he’d told Sue, he’d never cut short a meeting with any patient for any reason. Every one of them deserved to be able to ask as many questions as they needed to feel comfortable prior to any procedure. Questions he always answered honestly, even it if was an opinion patients weren’t always ready to hear.

“Thanks so much, Dr. Cartwright.” John stood and shook Aaron’s hand, he and his wife now smiling real smiles. “We’ll see you next week for the big day.”

“Which will hopefully result in an even bigger day next August,” Angela said.

“See you Tuesday morning at eight-thirty.” Aaron opened his office door, and as soon as the patients began walking down the short hall to the office exit Sue appeared again.

“Better get spiffed up fast. You might think none of the highbrow folks at your fund-raiser will wonder why dynamic fertility expert and adoption advocate Dr. Aaron Cartwright is the last to arrive, but I know you want plenty of time to pass the hat. Expert though you are at squeezing cash from the most miserly turnip.”

“Is that a criticism or a compliment?” He had to laugh, at the same time hoping it was true, since every donation helped. “I appreciate you sticking around and getting everything ready. So have you changed your mind about attending?”

“Too rich for my blood at three hundred quid a ticket. Six hundred if I bring Paul.”

“You know you’re both on my guest list. You just like to play the poor, hard-working office manager who isn’t paid enough to look after me.”

She grinned at him. “And how do you know me so well after only three years?”

“Maybe because those exact words come out of your mouth almost daily.” He grinned back. “Come on. Grab a dress and your husband and come have fun. You handled all the details for the thing practically single-handedly. Thanks to you, the band and the food will be great. Besides, you can keep me out of trouble.”

“Another job that’s too hard.” Her eyes twinkled as she patted his arm. “Thanks for putting me on the guest list. And the OBs and midwives who have adoption stories to share, too—that’s so smart of you. But Paul doesn’t enjoy things like that, and I don’t want to go without him. I’m sure it’ll be a huge success just like last year, though. I hope you get lots of new donors and enjoy yourself.”

“Fine. Don’t be jealous when I’m in the newspaper photos of the gala and you’re not.”

“As if I’d be in them anyway. They just want pics of the handsome American doctor who helps patients conceive the baby they want, advocates for adoption of adorable children and who just might be dancing with a beautiful woman.”

“They’re destined for disappointment, then. There’ll be too many people to talk into donating more for me to be distracted by a woman.”

“Unless the right woman is there to distract you. Which I know does happen periodically, though you never let them hang around long, poor things. You’re the most uncatchable doctor in this entire hospital.” She winked. “Hurry and get dressed now. You’re already past late.”

“Yes, Mom.” He took the clothes she shoved into his arms and had to smile at the way she mothered him. Not unlike the way his adoptive mother had, despite how messed up he’d been as a kid, which was challenging as hell for both his parents.

Thankfully, traffic wasn’t quite as bad as usual, and he made it to the hotel quicker than he’d expected. He took a second to catch his breath, surveying the elegantly appointed ballroom.

It was decorated for Christmas with tasteful table decorations of silver and gold balls in sleigh-shaped containers. Shiny twigs and sparkly something-or-others were tucked between them, and red, pink and white poinsettias sat everywhere in eye-catching groups. Big-band music filled the room, the fifteen-piece orchestra he’d hired in full swing. Glittery Christmas trees stood here and there on the edges of the room, flanking the equally glittery women and tuxedo-clad men.

Aaron smiled. Sue had outdone herself. Might just be a record crowd of well-heeled guests, most of them smiling, talking and nibbling on hors d’oeuvres, clearly enjoying themselves.

Opening their wallets, too, which was the whole reason for this event. November was a little early for a Christmas party, but it was better not to compete with all the December holiday stuff going on out there. He had to admit he was proud that, in just three years, this event had become the must-go-to social extravaganza of Cambridge, with people coming from quite a few places well beyond the city. Paying for top-notch entertainment and food was necessary to attract the kind of attendees he needed to reach his fund-raising goals.

His stomach growled as he watched someone take a bite of chicken on a stick. Better grab some food before his belly embarrassed him as he tried to talk to guests. He took a little of everything so he could eliminate any mediocre items from next year’s gala menu. Even if he’d moved on to a different hospital and city by then, he’d have a thick file to pass on to whoever took over after he left.

Aaron had just stuck a bite in his mouth when his gaze was drawn to the doorway. He nearly swallowed a shrimp whole when he saw the vision standing there.

She was tall and graceful, and the cascade of golden blond hair that had caught his eye the first time he’d seen her long ago was instead elegantly piled on top of her head. Wispy tendrils touched her cheeks and the long, slender curve of her neck. Her slim frame was accentuated by a long, pale blue dress that he would guess probably cost a tenth of what most of the women in this room had spent on their clothes, but she looked more gorgeous than any of them. Pretty much every time he’d passed by her in the hospital, he’d been struck by how amazingly good she managed to look in shapeless scrubs. But this woman?

This woman knocked his socks off.

He didn’t know anything about her, except that she was one of the midwives at the hospital. He’d taken a second and third glance at her every time he’d seen her in a hallway, and who wouldn’t? The woman was pure eye candy and obviously smart, too, but since his work didn’t involve delivering the babies he helped parents create, he’d never had the pleasure of her acquaintance.

Maybe tonight was the night to change that. To tell her he was glad that at least a few of the midwives he’d invited had decided to come. To find out over a glass of champagne what adoption stories of patients whose babies she’d delivered she was planning to share with some of the donors. To casually see if there was a wedding ring on her finger...

He went to the lectern standing in front of a retractable screen that had been set up opposite the band to give his presentation. Applause met his speech and the slides he showed of the other Christmas party the foundation hosted each year, where children wanting a home met parents considering adoption. Then more pictures of happy families newly bonded together.

The nods of approval and glowing smiles around the room made him smile, too. A good sign that quite a few folks would give even more than the price their tickets had provided to the charity named after his adoptive parents, The Tom and Caroline Cartwright Foundation. When he was finished speaking he worked the crowd, shaking hands and answering questions.

The music started up again, and as people moved to the dance floor he took advantage of the break to grab a cold sparkling water. He scanned the crowd, hoping to catch another look at the beautiful blonde midwife and maybe introduce himself.

“Nice party you’ve got going here, Aaron.”

He turned to see Sean Anderson standing next to him, holding a plate piled high with shrimp and crab cakes. The Aussie obstetrician had been at Cambridge Royal Maternity Unit for only a month or so, but Aaron had already seen the guy was both dedicated and talented.

“Thanks, but I can’t take credit for all of it. Or any of it, if you ask my office manager. She spent months pulling this together.”

“Deserving or not, take credit when you can. That’s my motto.” Sean grinned. “Even if you didn’t plan the menu or send the invitations, I know you’re the brains behind the whole idea, so kudos to you for that. Placing children with potential adoptive parents, especially older kids, is something anybody can get behind.”

“I hope so. I also hope you and the other OBs will talk to folks about some of your patients who’ve found good homes for their babies, and parents who adopted. Those kinds of personal connections help a lot.”