Unexpected Pregnancy

07 Doctor-Patient Dispute

Lila's POV

He stands there as if he has just been hit by something heavy, his face blank and his eyes unfocused. Seeing him like this, a strange sense of satisfaction washes over me.

I head back to the OB-GYN department.

But fate has a cruel way of striking just when you think you've found a moment of peace.

"I didn't finish what I was saying earlier," the doctor says seriously, adjusting her glasses as I face her again. "Your uterine lining is very thin."

Each word that follows feels like a penalty of death, "If you decide to terminate this pregnancy, you may never be able to conceive again."

My world crumbles, turning into a pile of rubble.

"Isn't modern medicine advanced enough?" I blurt out the question reflexively, my voice trembling.

The doctor is silent for a few seconds before giving me a look that says she sympathizes with me, but there's nothing she can do. "Yes, technology is advanced. But abortion procedures still involve traditional curettage. Your uterine lining is already weak, and if you undergo surgery, your chances of future pregnancy will be significantly reduced."

My fingers tighten around the edge of my bag unconsciously, and I lean slightly toward the doctor. "How much will they be reduced?"

"I'm sorry, there's no definitive answer in medicine. I can't give you an exact figure," the doctor sighs softly.

I stare vacantly at the small embryo on the ultrasound report.

"I'm a mother too," the doctor says, following my gaze. "From a mother's perspective, I suggest you consider keeping the pregnancy and having the baby. They really do bring so much joy."

In truth, over the past few days, when I've finished work and am lying in bed alone, staring at the dark ceiling, I've imagined what it would be like when the baby is born.

The baby would have soft, reddish skin, tiny hands and feet, and would only know how to cry at first. But then, when they finally learn to speak, their first word might be "Mama."

The doctor adjusts her glasses again. "Our hospital has a lot of experience in this area. You're a friend of Dr. Fitzroy, right?"

I blink in surprise and then nod.

"Dr. Fitzroy's cousin had symptoms of threatened miscarriage during her pregnancy. She was treated here, and now her child is very healthy," the doctor explains.

For some reason, I suddenly think of the child Alexander was holding in the parking lot that day, and I ask out of the blue, "Doctor, how old is that child now?"

"Around one year old."

The doctor points to a photo on the wall of the consultation room. "See, after she gave birth, she came back to the hospital to thank me, and we took a photo together."

I follow her gaze. In the photo, the woman is holding a baby wrapped in a blanket. The child is much smaller than the one I saw in the parking lot, but the woman's face is exactly the same as the one I remember from that day.

My eyes widen. So she's Alexander's cousin?

"You can take some time to think about it before making your decision," the doctor says, pulling me back to the present.

I take a deep breath, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me.

Even though Alexander doesn't have a child yet, that doesn't mean he would necessarily want our child.