Page 2 — The Decision Nobody Understood
Thomas didn’t answer immediately.
For nearly a minute, he simply stared at the table.
Then he asked the question I had been expecting.
“Is this because of Emily?”
My eyes filled with tears.
“No.”
He waited.
I wiped my cheek.
“No child could ever replace Emily. I would never want that.”
“Then why now?”
I took a deep breath.
“Because I feel like there is still something I’m supposed to do.”
Thomas looked confused.
I told him about the dream.
The hallway.
The crying baby.
Emily’s voice.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he leaned back in his chair.
“Margaret, dreams aren’t instructions.”
“I know.”
“And we’re not young.”
“I know that too.”
“This could be dangerous.”
“I know.”
He reached across the table and took my hand.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
That sentence broke something inside me.
Because that was my fear too.
I had already lost one child.
I didn’t know if I could survive losing my husband.
And I certainly didn’t know if I could survive leaving him alone.
For several weeks, we talked about it.
Then we stopped talking about it.
Then, one evening, Thomas walked into the living room carrying a piece of paper.
It was a phone number.
“A specialist,” he said.
I looked at him.
“You called?”
“I made an appointment.”
My heart started beating faster.
“You’re serious?”
He smiled sadly.
“If we’re going to do something this crazy, we’re going to do it properly.”
Finding a doctor willing to even evaluate me wasn’t easy.
Some clinics refused immediately.
Others told me the risks were too high.
One receptionist even sounded shocked when I gave her my age.
“Sixty-one?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause.
“Ma’am, are you sure?”
I almost laughed.
“No. That’s why I’m calling a doctor.”
Eventually, we found a specialist who agreed to assess me.
The testing was extensive.
Blood work.
Hormone levels.
Cardiac testing.
Kidney function.
Liver function.
Lung function.
Genetic screening.
Every possible risk seemed to be placed on a checklist.
I went through one examination after another.
And surprisingly, most of the results were good.
The doctor looked at my results.
“You’re healthier than many women twenty years younger.”
Thomas smiled.
I didn’t.
Because I knew that didn’t mean there were no risks.
Finally, the specialist explained everything carefully.
If we proceeded, the pregnancy would be considered extremely high-risk.
We understood.
We signed the paperwork.
And then we waited.
