Читать книгу The Mother and Her Child - Lena K. Sadler - Страница 15

A little woman came into our office the day of this writing, saying: "Doctor, I'm just as mad as I can be; I don't want to be pregnant, I just hate the idea." As I smiled upon this girl-wife of nineteen, I drew from my desk a sheet of paper and slowly wrote down these words for the head of a column: "Got a mad on," and for the head of another, "Got a glad on;" and then we quickly set to work carefully to tabulate all the results that having a "mad on" would bring. We found to her dismay that its harvest would be sadness of the heart, husband unhappy, work unbearable, while all church duties as well as social functions would be sadly marred. Then, just as carefully, we tabulated the benefits that would follow having a "glad on." Her face broke into a smile; she laughed, and as she left the office she assured me that she would accept Nature's decree, make the best of her lot, and thus wisely align herself with the normal life demands of old Mother Nature. This view of her experience, she came to see, would bring the greatest amount of happiness to both herself and husband. She left me, declaring that she was just "wild for a baby;" and there is still echoing in my ears her parting words: "I'm leaving you, Oh, such a happy girl! and I'm going home to Harold a happy and contented expectant mother."

There often enters on the exit of a discontented and resentful expectant mother, a woman, very much alone in the world—perhaps a bachelor maid or a barren wife, who, as she sits in the office, bitterly weeps and wails over her state of loneliness or sterility; and so we are led to realize that discontentment is the lot of many women; and we are sometimes led to regret that ours is not the power to take from her that hath and give to her that hath not.