Grand-Prize Cowboy
Page 22
“Have you studied uterine lavage?” Christine asked the question.
“For treatment in uterine infections,” Olivia said. Her specialty was neonatal pediatrics, but she was familiar with the special, catheter-type procedure.
“It’s rarely done in humans anymore, but has been successfully used to remove a fertilized embryo from one woman and implant it in another. The timing is critical. Five or six days at the most and we’d have to find a surrogate for you immediately, which means we’d have to reach out to clinics who specialize in surrogacy in order to find a ready-to-go prescreened surrogate who’d be willing to take this on, and then get attorneys for both sides together immediately. But...there’s a chance this could happen.” When Olivia met Christine’s gaze her friend said, “If you want it to.”
No.
It was too...everything. Too rushed. Too unplanned. Too out there. Too not at all what she saw for herself. Or her life. She didn’t even know if she was pregnant.
She was not going to be a mother to a biological child. She’d accepted the diagnosis the day she’d buried her daughter.
“Your insurance might not cover the process, so you’d want to consider cost.”
Cost wasn’t an issue. Never had been. But the thought distracted her long enough to draw a full breath.
“You came here for a reason.” Christine’s calm tone settled around her. Not holding her, but hanging out, almost within her reach.
“You’re talking about the early days of in vitro fertilization.” Olivia was calm now. Fully in brain mode. “Before Louise Brown was born. She was the first official test tube baby...”
Christine was nodding. Of course, being the founder of what was becoming one of the nation’s premier fertility clinics, she’d know the history of that particular medical science.
“Before they fertilized eggs in petri dishes, they were fertilized inside a woman and then transferred from that woman to a surrogate...”
“Or even to her own uterus if her fertility issues had to do with the fallopian tubes.” Olivia started to shake again as two parts of herself caught up with each other.
Christine’s gaze was calm. Focused. “You want to try.”
“It’s impossible.” There was no way.
“I’d like to tell you that you’ve got time to think about it, but, unfortunately in your case, there is no time. If the embryo isn’t transferred before it implants in your uterus, you know what you’re facing.”
A very difficult choice. Either terminate the pregnancy, or risk birthing another child who suffered as Lily had.
With a chest so tight she could hardly draw air, Olivia quivered from the inside out. “There might not even be a baby.”
“You aren’t willing to take that risk.” Christine didn’t ask. She knew.
“I don’t even know of a doctor who’d be able or willing to do the procedure,” she said. “With modern technology and laboratory capabilities producing such improved results, no one fertilizes in the living organism anymore.”
“I know of someone who used to work with my mom,” Christine said. “She lives in Europe, but is in the States on a teaching tour, so I know her license to practice here is up to date. The timing of that might not be a mistake.”
Olivia’s heart leaped. And left a shard of anxiety shooting through her.
Even if they could get someone to perform the procedure, the chances of extracting a healthy embryo and getting it successfully implanted in another woman were nil.
If she was even pregnant.
Christine hadn’t asked her why she’d had unprotected sex in the first place, let alone when she knew she was ovulating. She had no answer to that even if her friend posed the question. Thinking back to the night before...the last thing on her mind had been her menstrual cycle. She’d been hell-bent on escaping the responsibility and caution that guided every breath she took.
Just for one night.
Not a lifetime.
“I have to talk to Martin.”
Technically, she didn’t. If the baby was inside her, she could make the choice. But ethically?
“Did you two ever talk about surrogacy in the past?”
She shook her head. “Ten years ago success rates weren’t as good and it wasn’t even legal in some places. And... I was such a mess after Lily, I couldn’t imagine opening my heart to another baby, to the fact that I could lose another child. Even the idea of a surrogate miscarrying sent me into panic mode. Martin was just the opposite. He wanted to adopt right away. He was in his thirties and the only real goal he hadn’t met was having a family. He was so desperate to do that that he just wasn’t thinking straight. And certainly wasn’t able to understand where I was emotionally.
“And then he and I started having problems that had nothing to do with having a family. Our age difference kept popping up—I was so young, just twenty-one, idealistic, starting a career. He’d made his money and wanted to scale mountains while he was still young enough to do so. I needed to make a difference in the world, to feel like I had worth, most particularly since it seemed I’d failed at motherhood. He’d already made his difference.”
“How do you think he’d react to the idea of you having his baby with the help of a surrogate?”
Shaking her head, she knew she couldn’t possibly be seriously considering the idea. She was teasing herself. Playing what-ifs as though she was still a kid. “I honestly don’t know,” she said, because Christine was waiting for an answer to her question.
And then, thinking of Martin, she shook her head. He had his own millions but thrived on raising money for Fishnet, the licensed nonprofit he’d founded to provide supervised housing and incentives for underprivileged youth.
With another shake of her head, she said, “I can’t imagine him staying in one place long enough to be part of a family.”
That was partially why their odd association postdivorce had worked as long as it had. Not only were there no expectations, there wasn’t even opportunity for expectations to develop. They lived in two vastly different worlds.
Marie Cove was her home.
The world was his.
Copyright © 2021 by TTQ Books LLC
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ISBN-13: 9780369710260
Grand-Prize Cowboy
Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Heatherly Bell for her contribution to the Montana Mavericks: The Real Cowboys of Bronco Heights miniseries.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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