“Remind me never to be pregnant in the summer,” said the first assistant. The pregnant woman did look quite uncomfortable. She was wearing a black dress.

“You have to make sure you plan it right,” said the second assistant. “The best time to have a baby is in the late fall.”

I was interested to learn that other young women had given this much thought to the then (to me) seemingly abstract ideas of pregnancy and birth. I mean, I suppose I did picture myself as a parent to some unimaginable infant in some ethereal future realm, but five, ten, fifteen years stretched out in front of me like some other kind of eternity.

“I wonder if I’ll ever have a baby,” said the first assistant. “Sometimes I don’t think it will ever happen for me.”

“All I want,” said the second assistant distantly, “is for someone to save me.”