by K. C. Crowne
“Got it,” Carly replied, jotting down some notes as she spoke. “What’s next?”
“Once you’ve been given the go-ahead after the exams, we’ll move on to monitoring your cycle, and tracking your ovulation. We let your cycle happen once so we can monitor it, and your next cycle after that you’ll undergo a procedure to remove eggs from your ovarian follicles.”
“Does that hurt?” Carly asked. “I mean, a little pain is fine. I just want to know what to expect.”
“It can be uncomfortable, but we do offer pain medication if you’re worried about any discomfort. The process is very simple, and at most the average woman deals with after the procedure is some slight cramping and bloating from all the ovarian stimulation.”
This was all subject matter that I was very familiar with in my line of work. But Dr. Rochester had an excellent manner of laying all the information out in clear terminology. I, on the other hand, tended to slip into jargon when I went over this stuff.
She went on. “After we retrieve the eggs, we collect a sperm sample from the father.”
“Now, if it’s all right I’d like a room with a little more privacy than this when it’s time for my sample.” A smile on my face, I gestured to the glass walls around me that provided a perfect view into the room for anyone who happened nearby.
Carly and Dr. Rochester both laughed.
“Don’t worry,” the doctor assured. “The glass-everywhere interior style most definitely does not apply to the donation rooms. Anyway, once we have both the egg and the sperm, that’s where the in vitro part comes in. Our technicians will fertilize the egg with the donor sperm, and once that’s complete, it’s a simple matter of transferring the embryo to the uterus. This process isn’t painful in the slightest, and most women compare it to an average pap smear.”
“And that’s it?” Carly asked.
“That’s it. From there, the embryo implants in the uterine wall and hatches, and then you have an otherwise normal pregnancy. And just so you know, we will be taking out multiple embryos, so if down the road you’re thinking you want to do this again, you’ll have the option.”
A nervous smile spread across Carly’s face, and I could sense that the idea of another baby was causing her mind to reel something fierce. But she quickly cleared her throat, her expression turning serious.
“Are there any known complications to this procedure?”
“Aside from the possibility of failure of the embryo to fertilize or implant, there is one. We typically have the surrogate take fertility drugs prior to the second ovulation, and that means, well, you’re extra fertile.”
“Twins,” she said, the word coming out with a dreamy tone.
“Twins or triplets, or even more.”
I knew this already, but Carly’s jaw dropped at the mention.
“But that’s a bridge that can be crossed when we come to it,” Dr. Rochester assured her.
“Most definitely,” I said, wanting to reassure Carly.
Carly took another slow breath. Without thinking, I reached under the table and placed my hand on her leg. The intention was to calm her down, but the moment I touched the cool denim of her jeans, I knew my move would have the opposite effect on me. My heart rate picked up, and my cock twitched to life.
Before I could say anything, Carly shifted her body, my hand moving from her leg. I brought it back to my lap, part of me wishing I hadn’t done it.
“And there’s also the matter of payment,” Dr. Rochester said. “We have a standard fee in mind that we recommend to both the parents – in this case, the father and the surrogate. It’s based on a national average, as well as local cost of living.”
“We’ve already discussed the matter of payment,” I said. “And I made some changes.”
An expression of mild concern appeared on the doctor’s features. “The amount is what we recommend. As well as a monthly stipend to cover expenses.”
“No, no,” I said. “I’m not talking about lowering the amount – I offered her more.”
“Ah,” the doc said, the smile returning. “Such matters can certainly be up to the father and surrogate to discuss between themselves. But we do make sure the surrogate isn’t being, ah, low-balled.”
“Father and surrogate,” Carly repeated softly to herself.
I was sure she’d picked up on the same thing that I had – it was “father” and “surrogate,” not “father” and “mother.”
“I have some questions about after the procedure,” Carly said, getting to the matter obviously on her mind. “And after the pregnancy.”
“Of course,” Dr. Rochester replied. “We understand that this can be a difficult subject to navigate. Please feel free to ask whatever questions you might have.”
“It’s about what happens when the baby is born. Am I just…done at that point? Do I have the baby and give it to Ryan and that’s that?”
The doctor folded her hands on the table in front of her once more, understanding that this was a very delicate subject.
“What happens after the birth is up to both the parents or parent and the surrogate. I can’t tell you the right thing to do, but what I can tell you is what happens most of the time.”
“And that is?”
“Most of the time, the surrogate gives birth and, once the baby and surrogate are confirmed to be healthy, that represents the end of her involvement with the baby. The infant is taken to the nursery, and the surrogate is given the go-ahead to leave whenever she and the doctors feel she’s ready.”
“Just like that.”
Dr. Rochester nodded. Her expression was one of professional sympathy, as if she understood what Carly might be going through. I wished I could say something to Carly to reassure her, but what might that be? The plan, after all, was for her to give birth and I take the baby. There wasn’t much sugar-coating I could do.
“It’s not unheard of that the surrogate is given updates on how the baby is doing post-birth. As I said, that’s all up to the parties involved. But what I will say for sure is that, as per clinic policy, all surrogates will be given a contract to sign stipulating that she will be waiving all parental rights to the child. That means there’s no option to sue for custody at any point after the baby is born.”
“And what if I don’t want to sign a contract like that?” Carly asked. “Just out of curiosity.”
“Then we won’t be able to offer you our clinic’s services. I know it all sounds cold and legal, but it’s to ensure that the whole process is as smooth as possible for all parties involved.”
“I see.”
Carly was doing her best to stay as professional as the doctor, but there was no mistaking the color draining from her face after the terms of the pregnancy had been laid out.
What could I even say to her? That’s how all this worked. She carried the baby, handed it over when he or she was born, and that was that. Only she’d be able to figure out if that was something she felt comfortable doing.
“Then let’s do this,” Carly said. “I’m still thinking about whether or not I want to sign on the dotted line, but at the very least I’m OK with moving forward on the exams.”
“Excellent,” Dr. Rochester said with a smile. “How about a week from today?”
“Perfect. That’ll give me time to take the afternoon off.”
“Then we’ll be in touch to confirm the time. Ryan already gave us your email, so we will touch base as soon as we have the appointment in the books.”
“Sounds good.”
And that was that. We rose, Carly and I shaking hands with Dr. Rochester, who led us back to the lobby.
“I’ll see you to your car,” I said. “If that’s fine with you.”
She didn’t say a word, nodding instead. I stepped up to the door and opened it for her, Carly hurrying out into the brisk air. I formed up at her side and we walked in silence, her eyes fixed ahead.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“Good. I think.” She kept on walking. “It’s fine. It’s weird for me to think about how this is all going to play out, but I just need time to wrap my head around it. Don’t worry about me.”
“Are you sure?” I asked as we made our way to her car. “The last thing I want right now is for you to feel like you’re being pressured. If you don’t want to do this, there won’t be any trace of bad blood in the slightest.”
“I’d tell you if I didn’t want to do it. I’m ready to do the exams, and then we can go from there.” We reached her car and stopped, Carly turning to me.
“Dinner,” I said. “Let’s go out and grab dinner and we can talk about this a little more. Or talk about anything else.”
She shook her head. “I appreciate it, but if we’re going to do this, one thing I know for sure that I want is for us to be totally professional and that’s it. Nothing more.”
Her words stung, but I wasn’t about to argue with her.
“That’s fine,” I said, lying. “But if you change your mind…”
“Thanks. Anyway, I should get going.”
“Of course.” She pressed the automatic opener for her car, and I quickly opened the door.
“See you next week,” she said once she was seated.
“Yeah. See you then.”
I shut the door and she started the engine, giving me a quick wave goodbye before driving off. Once she was gone, I stood there for a time, not sure what to do with myself. I should’ve been happy that she was on board and planning to take the next step. But instead, I was conflicted.
More than that, I was disappointed. I liked Carly heaps. And it all went beyond mere sex. I liked hanging out with her, I liked talking with her. Knowing that her agreeing to this plan would mean no more of that, well, it hurt.
I sighed, taking my keys out of my pocket and starting back toward my car. Once I was on my way, I gave the matter more thought. Maybe she’d ease up during the process, be more open to the idea of us being friends. But that would only lead to more problems. After all, wouldn’t this kid eventually want to know who his mum was? And what would he or she say if I were to tell them that their mum was none other than my good friend Carly?
What a mess.
I’d never been the sort of bloke to doubt myself. But as I sat outside that clinic, considering my future, I began to wonder if I was making a mistake – and one that would affect more lives than just my own.
Chapter 16
CARLY
My eyes went wide, the true crime doc I’d been watching on Netflix fading into the background.
It was happening again.
As if my body were operating all on its on, I sprang up from the couch and flew to the bathroom, dropping to my knees onto the cool porcelain tile. I pulled up the seat so quickly that it hit the back of the toilet with a clang.
I coughed and sputtered and threw up what little was in my stomach. When I was done, I coughed a little more before pushing up off the rim and rising to my feet. After flushing the toilet, I stepped in front of the mirror and took in my refection. My pale skin was deep red, my eyes watery.
I looked like a hot mess, and it hadn’t been the first time this had happened. As I washed my face and brushed my teeth, I went back and forth about what I needed to do.
I was getting sick – no sense in denying it. And I hated the idea of being sick. Who the hell had time for it? I had homework and lesson plans and older sister stuff to worry about. I didn’t have a single day to lounge around in bed scrolling Instagram on my phone, or whatever it was that people did when they got sick.
“Hey, Carly!” Adam’s voice came from the other room. “Are you watching this, or can I change it?”
I spit out the mouthful of toothpaste. “Go ahead and change it!”
“Thanks!”
I checked the time on my phone and saw that it was a little after three-thirty. I’d gotten back from the psychological tests I’d taken at the surrogacy clinic, but still had a little time to kill before my physical.
The psych tests had been a breeze – mostly asking about my general emotional state and all that. As I’d answered the questions, I’d realized just how lucky I was. Sure, my life was busy and crazy and catching a moment here and there to relax was a struggle. But I had a great little brother to look out for, a job that I loved, and friends who were there for me. Life was good, as nutty as it could be, and my test results reflected that.
The physical, on the other hand, was another matter. I’d always been in good health, so the fact that I’d been feeling out of sorts over the last couple weeks was strange. Whatever was going on with me, I hoped wouldn’t throw a wrench in the surrogacy plans.
Adam was laying across the couch when I went back into the living room, a half-drank bottle of blue Gatorade on the coffee table next to a small bowl of trail mix. Some sci-fi action show was on the TV, the scene a crew of astronauts in the middle of a laser battle with what looked to be zombies.
“Hey, I’m heading out – going to the doctor.”
“The doctor? Are you sick or something?”
“Nope, just getting a check-up. Something you’re going to need before too long.”
One of the things I hated about this process was how I’d been lying to Adam. Granted, most of the lies had been by omission, but still. He was my brother, and I’d been living this weird double life behind his back, zipping around to psych tests and dates with a guy whose kid I was probably about to carry.
But I told myself it was only temporary. Once I received the go-ahead as the surrogate and they managed to get that egg in my uterus, I’d come clean with all the info. Sure, there was a chance he’d end up being a little peeved I’d kept him out of the loop, but it was for a good reason. I didn’t want to get him all worked up if it turned out not to happen.
“I have to do check-ups, like, every two weeks for the team. I’m in better shape than the coach.”
“Yeah, yeah. Make sure you get your homework done before I get back.”
“I’m going over to Jason’s later and we’re going to do homework at his place. Oh, and we’re going to get Chipotle for dinner, so you don’t need to make me anything.”
I jokingly tsk-tsked at him. “Turning down my home-cooking for some Mexican fast casual, eh?”
He laughed and I gave him a goodbye before heading out the door.
The little exchange with Adam managed to take my mind off the stress of the sickness, and by the time I was behind the wheel I felt pretty good; not worried at all. I probably just had a bug. Or, I realized, there was a damn good chance that my nerves were the culprit behind whatever was going on with me. After all, I was about to make what very well could be the biggest decision of my life.
As I drove, I further distracted myself with thoughts about the money, and what I’d be able to do with it. I imagined telling Adam about the pregnancy and seeing his reaction when he found out that he wouldn’t have to worry about student loans; that between his scholarships and the surrogacy money, he’d graduate free and clear.
I imagined getting a new car. Nothing fancy, of course, but something I could climb into in the mornings without having to worry if it would start or not. And then I really let loose with my fantasizing, thinking about buying a new place. When Adam went off to school there would be no reason to keep the house. I could sell it and buy something more suitable for a single woman, maybe a condo in Capital Hill, one of my favorite neighborhoods in the city.
All it would take was nine months of pregnancy and then…giving away the baby. I imagined the day of the birth, how I’d give birth to a baby I’d grown inside of me, one that was half mine, only to hand it off to the doctors and never see him or her again.
It was enough to make me sick to my stomach in an entirely different way.
But I had to put that out of my head. I’d been thinking about the whole situation like I was just renting out my womb. The baby was Ryan’s, after all, and I was just…lending my uterus to him for a
little while. It sounded kooky, but it almost made more sense than thinking about the baby as mine.
Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of Dr. Jennifer Robertson’s clinic. Dr. Robertson had been our GP since we were kids, and our parents were still around. She was great, and it’d always been nice to see the same doctor throughout the years. She’d seen me since I was a baby, and now she was going to see me through my own pregnancy.
I stepped into the waiting room, which hadn’t been redone since the 80s, and I liked it that way for the nostalgia factor. I checked in with the receptionist and was soon seated in the same exam room where I’d waited for Dr. R so many times in the past. The only difference between now and then was these days my feet touched the ground instead of dangling off the side.
I didn’t have to wait long before the door opened and Dr. R stepped in. She was short and trim, with curly hair that had been blonde when I was a kid, but over the years had changed into a deep and elegant silver. Frameless glasses were perched on her long nose, her eyes as bright and blue as I’d always remembered them. Despite being in her early seventies, she was as spry and energetic as always.
“Hey, kid!” she said, shutting the door behind her. “What’s the word?”
Man, where to begin? I realized that if I were to do this thing, I was going to have to get used to explaining surrogacy.
“The word is…I need a physical.”
She leaned against the wall across from me, nodding slowly. “Alright, the word is physical. Now, I’m not a shrink, but I’ve got a feeling there’s another word besides that one.”
No sense in beating around the bush.
“There is. The other word is surrogacy.”
Her bright blue eyes lit up. “Surrogacy? You, little Carly Grissom?”
“Little Carly Grissom. God, saying it out loud makes it sound even weirder.”
“Nothing weird about it,” Dr. R assured me. “It may not seem like it, but there’s lots and lots of couples out there who have trouble getting pregnant. Helping them out is pretty damn noble, if you ask me. Tell me what’s going on.”