Elizabeth endures a barrage of unsolicited advice about pregnancy—from strangers in lines to a priest—while coping with job loss, discomfort, and isolation. She deflects with sarcasm and physically defends her boundaries when a man in an elevator touches her belly, striking him with her heavy handbag.

At the cemetery, she visits Calvin’s new headstone and forgoes a literary quote for a chemical engraving associated with happiness, signaling her scientific lens on grief and love. Resolving to seek care, she schedules an appointment with Dr. Mason, a rower who once let her row in the men’s eight.

At the obstetrician’s office, Elizabeth confronts patronizing decor and paperwork assuming a husband, then meets Dr. Mason. He recognizes her from rowing and treats her with respect despite her unmarried status. During the exam, she admits she delayed care, privately hoping the pregnancy might end, and confesses she never planned on motherhood.

Dr. Mason acknowledges that not every woman wants—or should be—a mother, likening pregnancy to being hit by a truck while reassuring her health. He approves her intense daily erging, noting potential benefits, and asks about support; she cites only her dog. Before she leaves, he invites her to return to rowing in a year, offering a concrete future goal. His empathy and encouragement provide Elizabeth with her first real sense of validation and hope since Calvin’s death.