Cynthia left work early so she could be at home when Roger arrived to give him the news. He opened the door at 5:30 and walked back to the kitchen where Cynthia was sitting drinking iced tea. He took off his jacket and put it on the back of a kitchen chair and loosened his tie. He grabbed another chair, turned it around, faced Cynthia, and straddled it with his arms across the back.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" she said coyly.
He smirked and cocked his head at her. "I didn't see you all day. What's the news?"
"Turned out that Bill Jenkins had gallstones after all," she said with a smile.
"Cindy! You're killing me!" Roger exclaimed.
"Oh, you're talking about my test," she said with a smile.
Roger was silent with the same expression.
"Well, it looks like I'm…." Roger leaned forward while Cynthia continued, "pregnant."
Roger jumped up, grabbed Cynthia and pulled her up for a hug, knocking her tea on the ground and shattering the glass. They both looked down at the mess.
Roger shrugged and said, "Oh well," and continued hugging Cynthia. "I'm so happy, Cynthia!" He then kissed her passionately before she could get a word in edgewise and she kissed him in return. After a few moments, he continued, "Are you happy?"
Cynthia thought briefly to herself, "Yes. I think I am."
"I'm so glad. What did Dr. Carraway say?"
"Just that I was pregnant and to not worry about my job. She didn't think that was a legitimate concern and that the hospital would love to have me back after having the baby."
"See?" Roger said.
"Yeah, well, I still have to tell my department head, Gordon Stephenson, what's going on," Cynthia replied.
"I'm not worried," Roger replied.
"You never are. You are the eternal optimist," Cynthia said with a smirk.
"Someone has to be," he replied.
"Well, I'm not a pessimist," she said.
Roger was silent.
"I'm not," she insisted.
"No, I'd say you're a realist with occasional bouts of pessimism," Roger replied with a smile.
"Someone has to have their feet on the ground," she said.
"You're so right. And I love you just the way you are," he replied. "So how pregnant are you?"
"By my best guess, around 8 weeks. I don't know for sure. Dr. Carraway gave me the name of an obstetrician," she elaborated.
"Good, good," he replied. "What do you say about going out to dinner to celebrate?"
"I'm still somewhat queasy, how about popcorn and some TV?" she replied.
"Popcorn it is," Roger replied.
That night, they watched Buck Rogers, the Fireside Theater, and ended the evening with some laughs watching Can You Top This?
The next day around 11 am, a husky gentleman in his late forties with a broom mustache sat at his desk in his neatly organized office in Hermann Hospital. A knock came on his door. "C'mon in," he said. Cynthia Parsons entered the office still wearing her lab coat, with her stethoscope draped over her shoulders under her wavy, dark hair.
"Dr. Stephenson, do you have a few moments?" Cynthia asked.
He put down his pen and said, "Yes, I do, Dr. Parsons." Dr. Gordon Stephenson was an affable man who gave up practicing medicine to work on the administrative side of things at the hospital. He was head of the General Medicine department over Cynthia and many other staff. "Please, sit down," he said as he motioned for her to sit in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. As she sat down, he stood up and took a small watering can and began watering the plants on his office window ledge.
"How are you, Cynthia? I haven't seen you up here in a while, and please, call me Gordon," he remarked.
"Okay. I'm good. I've been pretty busy," she replied.
"I heard about that diagnosis you made not too long ago on the Sheffield case. Brilliant, just brilliant," he said.
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
He stopped watering his plants and sat down with his arms crossed casually on this desk. "So, what can I help you with today?" Reading some concern on her face, he asked, "Is there something wrong?"
"Wrong? No," Cynthia said.
"Whew. That's good, I was afraid you were going to say there was," he replied.
"Well, I have some news," she said.
"Oh?"
She hesitated briefly but said, "Yes. I wanted to let you know that I found out recently that I'm pregnant."
He uncrossed his arms and leaned back in his Naugahyde chair with his hands on both arms. Cynthia didn't know how to read his reaction and became quite nervous.
After a few moments of quiet contemplation he said, "Cynthia, that's great news. I bet Roger is just beaming."
"He's on Cloud 9, really," she replied.
"I bet he is," he said with a smile. "So, does this mean you're coming to tell me that you plan on quitting?"
She tried to read his expression and measured her words, "Actually, I would like to take some time off to have the baby, but I would like to be able to come back."
"You say that now," he replied cryptically.
"I'm not sure what you mean," Cynthia said.
"You'll see. You'll have this baby and become smitten and never look back," he replied.
She crossed her arms, and trying to keep her cool, said, "Dr. St…, I mean, Gordon, I did not work this hard at becoming a doctor to just give it all up."
Sensing her defensiveness, he said, "What I mean is that once you have that baby, you don't know what you might want after that."
"I already know what I want. I wanted children someday. That day came sooner than I thought. But as much as wanting children, I want my career as a doctor because I love helping people and I want any children I have to see their mother realizing her dream."
"Sounds pretty romantic to me," he replied, still leaning back, but resting his hands on his stomach.
"Maybe, but I mean it," she replied emphatically.
"Cynthia, I think it's great that you want both a family and a career here at the hospital. I'm glad I got to hear your passion for your work here today. I'm assuming what you're wondering is if you can come back to work here once you're ready?" he asked.
"Yes," she said with her arms still crossed and sitting stiffly in her chair.
"Well, I personally wouldn't have it any other way. You are a great asset to this hospital and you would be a big loss if we did not get you back."
"Were you just toying with me, then?" she asked.
"Testing, yes. Toying, no," he replied with a smile. "So, tell me more about this baby. When is he or she due? Got any names picked out yet?"
"I'm not sure, but if I had to guess, probably October. I have my first O.B. appointment in a week. We haven't gotten as far as names yet, having just found out that I'm pregnant," she replied.
He reached into the lower right drawer of this desk and pulled out a box. He opened the lid and produced a cigar. "Make sure that Roger gets this. Give him my congratulations, as well."
"I will," she replied, taking the cigar and putting it in the breast pocket of her lab coat.
"And congratulations to you, too, Cynthia," he continued, "and keep me updated."
"Thanks," she replied.
"And by the way, I meant it when I said I want you back at work. If you need something in writing, I can arrange that."
"I might just take you up on that," she replied with a smile. She stood up and extended her hand. He stood up in kind and shook her hand. She said, "and thanks for taking the time to talk today with your busy schedule, Gordon. I appreciate it."
"Anytime, Cynthia."
She turned and left his office, closing the door behind her. She briefly leaned against the door and let out a big sigh of relief. After leaving Stephenson's office, she went to the hospital cafeteria to have lunch. She walked down the food line with her tray, automatically eliminating any foods with chunky or creamy textures as options. She eventually settled on a chicken breast and some green beans and grabbed a milk carton from the refrigerator before heading to a table to eat.
Roger walked into the cafeteria and scoped the room to find Cynthia. Once he saw her, he went through the food line to grab his lunch. He came over to where she was sitting and sat down.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Better. I think I'll actually be able to hold this down," she said, looking down at the food on her tray.
"That's good," he said, reaching across the table to touch her hand.
"I talked to Gordon," she said.
"Oh?"
"I told him that I was pregnant, but would like my job back when I was ready," she said.
"And how did that go over?"
"At first, I thought he was insulting me, insinuating that I was going to lose my mind from going gaga over motherhood. Then he tried to smooth it over." She continued, "By the end of the conversation I thought he was toying with me, but he said he was merely testing my resolve."
"And?" Roger replied.
"Long story, short, he said I could have my job back, anytime, and I could have it in writing if I wanted," she said with a broad smile.
"That's great news. I knew it!" Roger replied.
"Oh. He said to give you this," she said as she pulled the cigar from her pocket and handed it to Roger.
He smiled and said, "I'll save this for when the baby is born." He opened his jacket and placed it in the inside pocket. "When's your first appointment with the obstetrician?"
"Next week," she replied.
"I guess now that we can breathe somewhat easy, we should start making some plans," Roger said.
"Plans?"
"Yes. Making a nursery in the house? Coming up with names? Talking to the future grandmas and grandpas?"
Cynthia hadn't absorbed the reality of the situation until this moment. She put her fork down on her tray and put her hand over her mouth, looking queasy again.