Inconceivable

by Carolyn Savage

  SEAN

  I woke up Monday morning feeling guilty for having abandoned Carolyn the night before. I knew she was hurting, but I was hurting as well, and so exhausted. Sunday I had woken early to take the kids to mass while Carolyn rested. There I prayed for peace and the strength to keep going. I kept the kids busy all day as I did household chores. When my head hit the pillow Sunday night, my service-to-others gas tank was empty. I drifted to sleep while Carolyn was crying. No excuse.

  I missed the easy way we used to be with each other, our private jokes and that hour I treasured just before we fell asleep at night. We hadn’t been intimate in more than two months because of her medical status, and it seemed that as each day passed things got worse at home and between us. As the distance grew, my natural reaction was to shut down. Tunnel vision helped me avoid escalating the tension between us. We didn’t need to fight. Fighting would only make things worse, and I did not want to add more trouble to our life. In the meantime, I had to slough off the pain of it and just get through.

  The boys were starting to get suspicious. Sunday afternoon I was in my chair in the family room jotting down my weekly list of tasks: those for the next day and longer goals for the rest of that week. The house was serene. Carolyn was napping, and so was Mary Kate. Drew entered the family room and stood next to my chair. I looked up into his serious young face.

  “Dad, Mom is always in bed lately. What’s wrong with her?”

  His question broke my heart.

  “Mom hasn’t been feeling well, but it’s not serious, and she’s going to be just fine.”

  Drew nodded his head and left the room.

  I hope I comforted him. Were we really shielding the children from this trauma by keeping the secret? The tentacles of the problem seemed to grasp at every corner of our lives.

  Right before walking out of our bedroom Monday morning to go to work, I stroked Carolyn’s hair while she was waking up. “I am sorry for ignoring you last night. It was wrong, and I should have been there to help you. I have no excuse. I’ll pick you up for the ultrasound today if you would rather not drive.”

  She smiled sleepily. “I’ll call the doctor’s office to schedule a time and call you. I love you very much. Have a good day at work,” she said.

  “I love you and will see you later.”

  The week after that ultrasound we were officially in week ten of the pregnancy, and we celebrated Carolyn’s fortieth birthday with friends. While Carolyn didn’t feel much like celebrating, all of her girlfriends had huge blowouts on their big day. If she didn’t have one they might think something was wrong at home. I was happy she agreed to allow me to treat her and her girlfriends to dinner in a private room of a nice restaurant, while the guys watched NCAA basketball games at our house, awaiting the women’s return for cake and cocktails.

  On the Friday of the party, I left work early and stopped at a party supply store to buy doom-and-gloom black decorations, appropriate for someone hitting this milestone birthday. I swung by our local bakery to pick up a cake I had ordered. Our friendly baker Bonnie chided me about the cake, which read OVER THE HILL in black frosting.

  With the cake in one hand and a handful of decorations in the other, I walked through the doors of our home in an upbeat mood. When I entered the kitchen, I could not believe the mess: dishes stacked up in the sink, food all over the center island. I turned to the living room and saw MK’s toys all over the floor and a heap of laundry on the sofa. It was only ninety minutes before the guests arrived. Carolyn came downstairs looking a little out of it. Maybe she’d just had a nap?

  I decided to be a smart ass.

  “Carolyn, I was so busy at work today that I missed the news about the tornado ripping though Sylvania. Are the kids and the rest of the family okay? Were you able to get everyone in the basement before it blew through the family room and the kitchen?”

  Carolyn did not look amused in the least bit. “I didn’t have time today to pick anything up,” she snapped.

  “Did you forget that we are having thirty people over in a couple hours?”

  “I’ve been pretty sick today and haven’t had the energy to pick up. If you’re so worried about the way things look around here, you should have gotten home earlier.”

  “Forget it. I will do it all now. You should have called me to give me a heads-up that our home was declared a natural disaster area. I would have come home earlier.”

  I dove into cleaning and getting the house in good order and then moved on to decorating. Moments before the first guests were scheduled to arrive, I was on a kitchen chair trying to hook a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY onto the ceiling.

  “Sean, you’re not doing that right.”

  “Leave me alone. I’m doing my best.”

  “You are going to destroy the paint if you use duct tape to stick that sign up there.”

  “I’ve worked hard trying to give you a good birthday, and I don’t remember asking for your opinion on how I should decorate.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  We began the evening not speaking to each other.

  Luckily, the dinner with her girlfriends changed her mood. While the women were at the restaurant, I wrapped the porch and the front door in black ribbon thick enough to make it difficult for them to get through. I enjoyed watching Carolyn’s friends, many of whom had had several drinks, try to break through the barrier. They were laughing and seemed to enjoy the challenge.

  Carolyn sat in the living room, overcome by all the presents: gift certificates for a bookstore, beautiful jewelry, and clothes. As she opened her gifts, her girlfriends discussed how turning forty made them question whether they had accomplished everything they thought they should by that age.

  “I only have a few years left to be discovered,” said Carolyn’s friend Melanie, who wasn’t forty yet. “The first time a Hollywood movie producer sees me, he will know instantly that my wit and smashing good looks are wasted as a labor and delivery nurse.”

  “Melanie, I think you still have a chance at fame,” Carolyn said.

  “Please!” said Melanie. “At this age, I’m more likely to get famous for something that would put me in the pages of some low-rent tabloid.”

  They all laughed, but I caught Carolyn’s eye. Melanie was making us cringe. They might be seeing us in one of those later this year.

  After our last guest had left, we breathed a sigh of relief. Carolyn embraced me and said, “We still have our secret.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Maybe, Maybe Not

  March 24, 2009

  At this time my clients are able to provide your clients with the following information.

  They are approximating that they live no more than 100 miles from your clients.

  They do have living children that are in perfect health and have experienced normal development from birth.

  Attached, please find an ultrasound picture taken on Monday, March 23, 2009. The baby was measuring 9 weeks 1 day at the time of the ultrasound, which is indicative of healthy fetal development. The heartbeat at the time of the ultrasound was 180 beats per minute, which is very healthy as well. It should also be noted that the ultrasound picture shows the disappearance of the subchorionic hematoma that was visible in prior ultrasound pictures. This is also promising progress.

  Their next prenatal appointment is scheduled for Tuesday, March 31, 2009. It is scheduled for late in the afternoon, so communication regarding the results of that appointment will not occur until Wednesday, April 1, 2009.

  CAROLYN

  ONCE THE PREGNANCY REACHED ten weeks, I felt more confident that this baby would live, and I started to worry all the time about our embryos. I had an unsettling feeling that they were already lost. If they weren’t gone, I imagined they had been damaged in the mistake.

  I didn’t know whether any of what I imagined was true, but the vision I had seemed so plausible. I pictured the embryologist discovering his error and rushing to the cryopreservation tanks to
find out if what he feared was true. I imagined him unscrewing the tank, like one would unscrew the top of a thermos. As liquid nitrogen wafted up, he would have searched frantically for my embryos.

  When he found them, I pictured him removing the catheters where my embryos were stored, a procedure that is supposed to happen just before they are thawed. He would have lifted them out of the tank and stared at them for a while. I feared that he had thrown all protocol out the window at that point, laying the catheters on the counter while he double-checked my chart, hoping and praying he was reading it wrong. My embryos would have been thawing with every second that passed. I imagined that it took him a few minutes to gather himself and put my embryos back into the tank. By then, the damage would have been done.

  I would force myself to turn away from the horror of that image and hope and pray that my embryos harbored one or two more children for our family. Not all of them were likely to be viable; nevertheless, I thought, Surely God will reward us for saving this baby. Surely there is a baby for us at the end of this nightmare. So I prayed for them. Just like I prayed for Drew, Ryan, Mary Kate, and the baby I was carrying. I prayed that God would protect my future children and deliver them safely to me…sooner rather than later.

  I also wanted to do something for us. For me. It felt like everything we had done since February 16 had gone toward helping this unborn child and the other family. I just wanted to have something to hope for, something to look forward to.

  Long before we ever did IVF, Sean and I traveled to see a doctor in the Indianapolis area for a consultation. He had an excellent reputation and had helped friends of ours finally achieve their family after ten years of failures. He was the first doctor to recommend that we seriously consider IVF. Although we did our first IVF with our local doctor, the doctor in Indianapolis was the first one who popped into my mind as I tried to figure out what to do with our remaining embryos.

  I called his practice and asked to speak to the head embryologist, who seemed very sympathetic to our situation. The plan we made was for me to pick up my embryos at the old clinic, which would place them in a portable cryopreservation tank about the size of a fire extinguisher, and then strap them into MK’s car seat with bungee cords and drive them to meet with the new embryologist and doctor.

  A few days after my birthday, the phone rang. I recognized the number as the Indianapolis doctor’s office. I expected that it would be someone confirming all the plans for the big move. Instead, it was the embryologist. He sounded contrite as he asked me how I was doing. I sensed that something was wrong.

  “After much discussion, we have decided we are unable to help you,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  “We are not going to be able to accept you as a patient here. So it won’t be necessary for you to move your embryos here next week.”

  Panic washed over me.

  “We don’t know where else to turn,” I blurted out. “We don’t have a relationship with any other fertility practices. I don’t even know how to start a search for a new clinic under these circumstances!” I could feel the tears streaming down my face.

  “I’m sorry. I feel really bad about this. If you want, I’ll look into some other options for you,” the embryologist said.

  “No. No. We’ll figure it out. I have to go. My boys are getting off of the bus. They can’t see me crying.”

  I shook my head as I hung up the phone, frantically brushing away tears. His office probably didn’t want to be associated with us, and I couldn’t blame him for that. Who would? After all, I knew I was likely to become the poster child for the humdinger of all assisted reproduction disasters.

  I began wondering what I was going to do. What if no one wanted to help us? What if no one wanted to be associated with our situation? I knew we had done nothing wrong, but it was just a matter of time before the media would be all over this story. No one wanted to be mistakenly seen as the clinic that did this to us.

  I could hear the boys in the kitchen rummaging around for an after-school snack. I collected myself by splashing some cool water on my face and then went downstairs with a smile on my face to help with homework and cook dinner.

  To the Genetic Couple’s Lawyer

  April 1, 2009

  Attached please find the most recent ultrasound picture provided by my clients. It was taken yesterday, March 31, 2009. As depicted in the picture, the baby is measuring 10 weeks and 3 days. The heart rate was 184 beats per minute. These are both signs of continued healthy fetal development.

  My client’s next prenatal appointment is scheduled for Wednesday, April 8, 2009. Results from that appointment will be forwarded that afternoon.

  SEAN

  Soon after learning that we would have to find a new clinic for our embryos, we had our weekly appointment with Kevin. Carolyn explained that she felt as though our embryos had been disregarded by everyone but us. He asked, “Are you familiar with the concept of equanimity?”

  Carolyn and I shook our heads.

  “Equanimity is the idea that when things are going well, we are at peace. And when things are not going well, we are at peace. The ideal in a spiritual life is to be at peace with what is and always react steadily.”

  We must have looked dumbfounded.

  “Have you heard the story ‘Maybe, Maybe Not’?”

  Again, we answered no. So he told it to us.

  There was a farmer who used a great horse to help him on his farm. One day his horse ran away. His neighbors said to him, “Farmer, that is awful. You lost your horse.” He replied, “Maybe, maybe not.”

  Within a few days the farmer was surprised to find that the horse had returned—with three additional wild horses. The new horses could be quite useful on his farm. His neighbors marveled at his good fortune. “Farmer, you are so lucky. You now own several horses. You will work so much faster in your fields.” The farmer replied, “Maybe, maybe not.”

  The next day the farmer’s son tried to ride one of the wild horses but was bucked, resulting in a broken leg. The neighbors came to visit the farmer and said, “Farmer, this is tragic. Your son cannot walk.” The farmer replied, “Maybe, maybe not.”

  Soon an army troop stormed the town, kidnapping all of the town’s young men to press into service in their war. The troop was attacked, and all of the town’s young men perished. The neighbors came to the farmer and said, “Farmer, you are so lucky. All of our sons have died, yet you still have yours because he was too injured to go with the soldiers.” The farmer replied, “Maybe, maybe not.”

  This was an “aha” moment for both of us. I had never viewed the events of my life in this manner. Carolyn’s eyes were lighting up as she processed the concept and the story. Was this the worst thing that had ever happened to us? I certainly thought so. Could we learn something from it? Hard to imagine, but…maybe, maybe not.

  CAROLYN

  When Kevin asked us if we understood the story, I said we did. To me it meant that the twists and turns of life harbor tragedies that turn into blessings and blessings that give way to tragedy. The farmer quietly accepted the twists and turns of life and waited. He didn’t get too excited about anything because he knew that the world could change for him in the blink of an eye. Instead, he stayed even-keeled, accepting what life brought next and dealing with it in peace. Kevin knew that peace was what we were craving when he shared that story.

  We got more than peace, however, from that story. The farmer accepted that his first impression of something as good or bad was not always a reflection of how it would affect his life, but he wasn’t passive about it. He tried to make the most of what life dealt him, never being too attached to the idea of reversal or triumph.

  I had been so upset that I was turning forty and this was our last chance at a baby. After that session with Kevin, I understood that this was not our last chance. I thought back to a night a few days after MK was born. I was pumping a bottle of breast milk because MK was too weak to nurse and I needed to
start my supply. Suddenly I was overcome by the realization that our baby was here. My stomach was all torn up from the C-section, and I couldn’t have looked or felt more terrible, but at the same time I knew we were living a dream come true. Thank you, God. Thank you, God, I said over and over again. We had our beautiful baby, against all the odds. Defying the dour scolding of that doctor in Cleveland, we held a miracle in our hands. Somehow I knew in my bones that my embryos had among them at least one more child. If we were going to continue to live our values, we had to find a way to give our embryos a chance at life. We needed to start the process of finding a surrogate to carry our child.

  I had spoken with Sean years before about surrogacy, but he immediately rejected the idea. We were much younger then, with many years ahead of us in the world of fertility and infertility. He felt that the costs were prohibitive, and no doctor had brought up the idea or recommended that we needed surrogacy to achieve a successful pregnancy and delivery. But now all of those considerations were tossed up in the air.

  The choice to start looking for a surrogate changed my feelings about the other family. I was angry at them for assuming I could immediately flip my intentions and become a surrogate. I did not want this responsibility. I resented their lack of gratitude and understanding. But here we were at the end of the first trimester, and the doctor said that there was a more than 90 percent chance that this was a viable pregnancy. I had allowed this baby to grow, and I was hopeful that we would find a young, healthy woman with a big heart who could do the same for us.

  I knew Sean would not like the idea. All throughout our marriage I’ve known that there is a specific way to introduce new ideas: with patience. When we had Ryan, I knew early on that we would need a bigger house and a larger place for the boys to play. I had to start talking about it eighteen months before I wanted the new house to be a reality because Sean needed six or seven months to consider the idea before he warmed to it. With the surrogacy, we didn’t have time to play that game. We needed to get going on this right away. I’d have to do some thinking about how to raise the subject, but we were going to have to have that conversation very soon. I knew it wouldn’t go well at first. But I knew, in the end, he would agree.