He waggled his empty bottle and left her thinking about the encounter while he went to the kitchen for a refill. She looked over to find Jude watching her, and Jude lifted her head with a satisfied smile. In spite of herself, Bebe smiled back.
Rain balanced the clipboard on her knees while sitting in the waiting room of the upscale fertility clinic as she completed the medical questionnaire for her initial visit. This visit did not commit her to further expense and the cost was reasonable. If she wanted to go ahead with the procedure, then she would have to do some creative financing. She realized how healthy she was, answering no to so many questions about illnesses and diseases. She noted that her mother had cervical cancer, but she could answer no questions about her father’s medical history. She returned the clipboard to the receptionist and dug out her basal temperature chart to have ready for the doctor.
Photos of families with children covered the walls. A variety of magazines on health and pregnancy, along with travel, world affairs, gourmet cooking, and fashion lay neatly stacked on the side tables. Trying to mask her anticipation and anxiety, Rain flipped through a fashion magazine that smelled heavily of perfume.
She glanced over the top of the page at the other patients. A couple looking close to her age sat without speaking, but holding hands. The man occasionally brought the woman’s hand to his lips and planted a light kiss on the back. The woman looked up at him once, and Rain felt like a voyeur for the sadness she saw in the woman’s face. This seemed odd to Rain, noticing the small bump on the woman’s belly, and the way the woman seemed to cradle it with her other hand. She was the only obviously pregnant woman in the seating area, and Rain thought she should be happy. It appeared that she’d gotten what Rain wanted. Maybe there was something wrong.
Another woman looked to be in her forties. She was welldressed—Ann Taylor perhaps—with manicured nails with matching purse and shoes. The only clue to her composure lay in the frown lines between her eyes, and the fluctuating tension in her jaw. Rain never saw her turn the page of her travel magazine.
How odd, Rain thought, that in this room where women waited for news of motherhood, there was no common bond, no connection between them. No recognition that they shared a common hope or experience. Each woman was alone with her own fears and the realization that they all swam in a great, shallow statistical pool that guaranteed at least one of them would end up childless.
At last they called Rain into a consultation room, and Dr. Sykes breezed in a few minutes later. He was clean-shaven, middle-aged and compact, with neatly trimmed fingernails and a buzz cut. She found his manner to be cordial, yet businesslike and competent. He briefly went over her information, the basal temperature chart, and lab work, and then asked about her reasons for coming.
“I’m single and I want to have a baby. I was in a relationship for almost eight years, but he didn’t want children, so we separated. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Unfortunately, we see this scenario often nowadays, and that’s why we’re here. I will say at the outset that your age may be a factor in whether or not you will be able to conceive and carry a child full-term.”
Rain nodded and kept her eyes on her charts spread before him on the desk.
“The quantity and quality of a woman’s eggs usually decline with age, although all women are different. We’ll do an assessment of your remaining egg supply through hormone testing and do a vaginal ultrasound to measure follicle development. Unfortunately, there is no specific test available for egg quality.”
“What do you mean by quality?”
“As women age, the eggs they release are less perfect, and there is a dramatic increase in chromosomal abnormalities. We recommend amniocentesis for abnormalities such as Down syndrome and cerebral palsy. There is always the option of using donor eggs.”
He flipped through her chart to the results sent over by Dr. Lazenby. He pursed his lips as he read, frowning.
”Did you attempt to become pregnant with your partner?”
“Yes, for about a year.”
Rain remembered the morning Hayden found her using a pregnancy test. Unfortunately, she wasn’t pregnant, but he forced her to admit that she’d been off the pill for eleven months. She thought he would adjust to the idea, but it drove a wedge between them. She’d never seen him so angry.
Dr. Sykes asked about her lifestyle and family history, none of which seemed to her to give clues to her infertility.
“I see that you terminated a pregnancy at age sixteen. Were there medical issues at the time that you’re aware of?”
“None that I know of.”
“Based on your unexplained infertility and your age, I recommend we move ahead to intrauterine insemination. It’s possible that your partner’s sperm count was the factor in your infertility. If we’re not successful, we’ll progress to in vitro fertilization, before all fertility potential is lost.”
Rain felt he draped hope in a dark blanket of chance. “What exactly does that involve?”
“You have a slightly irregular ovulation cycle, so we would prescribe a ten-day supply of Clomid and depending on the results of your day 3 FSH test, we may add a small dose of gonadotropin injections to force your body to produce multiple follicles and eggs. We remove the eggs from the ovaries and coerce fertilization in the lab. Then we culture the embryos for several days and pick the best ones for transfer to the uterine cavity.”
“You do that here?”
“Yes. The egg retrieval is done by needle aspiration under local anesthesia.”
“It sounds painful.”
“As with any procedure, there is a certain amount of discomfort. We hope to retrieve five to seven eggs for the best results.”
Rain felt bombarded by the technical information and incapable of taking it all in. “Seven eggs?”
“We’ll transfer only two or three embryos, and you can choose to freeze the rest for a later transfer, if you prefer.”
“So I could end up with twins or triplets.”
“Multiple births are a possibility. The live birth rates for triplets and quads is low, or they are often premature, so we generally recommend fetal reduction to increase the likelihood of a live singleton birth.”
Rain wasn’t at all sure she heard him correctly. “Fetal reduction?”
“To reduce the number of fetuses in utero. Miscarriage rates increase with the number of fetuses. It’s also in the best interest of the mother. There is much more stress placed on the body with multiples than with singletons.”
The doctor continued, not noticing that Rain was stuck on the words reduction and fetuses.
“We do offer assistance with a donor service. Will you need donor sperm?”
“I’ve already checked that out.” Rain colored. “On a donor website, I mean.”
“Here is our rate sheet and consent form.” He handed her a packet of information. “You can set up your next appointment as soon as those are completed and you’ve visited our finance office. I wouldn’t wait too long, if you’re interested.”
Rain tried to make sense of the figures, but they were four and five number places with zeros and they blurred and scrambled. “Thank you. I’ll have to take a look at this and come back.”
Rain thanked him and left the clinic to sit in her car in the parking lot and comprehend the charges involved in the various procedure scenarios. Including medications, one cycle of IVF treatment without a sperm or egg donor was just under $10,000, with only a 20 percent chance of success, judging by the age chart. The two-cycle plan included assisted hatching and storage of frozen embryos, and the price went up by $4,000, but her chances also went up to 50 percent. A single cycle of IVF with an egg donor was $25,000—without including the cost of the sperm donor. As if it wasn’t bad enough, the prices increased when she turned thirty-nine. Medication was estimated at $1,000 and was not included in any of the plans.
Rain clocked in at work just after lunch and e-mailed her insurance broker, briefly
outlining the procedures to determine whether she qualified for any medical coverage. The agent told her that her comprehensive group policy covered the fertility meds, the actual IUI procedure, and the office visits, but not the ultrasounds. But in the case of in vitro, her insurance would only reimburse her for the office visit and part of the medication. The State of California Health and Safety and Insurance Codes required group plans to offer coverage for treatment of infertility, except for cases of in vitro fertilization.
She would follow the doctor’s advice and try IUI first. She speeddialed the fertility clinic’s number to set up an appointment. She had enough in savings to cover what the insurance didn’t for the first round. If that didn’t work, she would have to move to Plan B.
Bebe’s parents decided they couldn’t make the long trip to San Diego for Scott’s graduation, but at least they planned a party for him at the farm on Sunday after he got back home. Paul naturally had to stay home because of the harvest, and Rudy and Karen’s family had a conflict and couldn’t go, either. Bebe asked Rain if she would like to go along, and to her surprise, Rain said she would love to.
Bebe contacted the travel agency that assisted parents in making hotel and other arrangements for the graduation weekend, and Neil cleared their schedules at the clinic. She checked the weather forecast and printed directions from the hotel to MCRD on Mapquest.
If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that it was both a disappointment and a relief that her parents weren’t going with them. At least she didn’t have to worry about them unintentionally ruining the day for Scott. They could say what they wanted to her, but things would get ugly if they carelessly said things in his hearing. She could only hope that Bobby wouldn’t be there, since Scott hadn’t mentioned that he would be.
Dylan drove home from college on the night before they were to leave, ate dinner, filled the washer with dirty laundry, and took off to connect with some friends. Bebe warned him to be ready to leave at 6:00 a.m., because it would be at least an eight hour drive without hitting bad traffic. The next morning, they had to drag him out of bed and wait until he got his clothes packed.
They swung by to pick up Rain, and hit Interstate 80. It was great just to get out of town, and Bebe felt euphoric, although she noticed that Rain seemed preoccupied at times. They took Highway 99 through the central valley to break up the monotony and stopped for fast food at the base of the Grapevine before they crossed. They crawled along Interstate 5 in Los Angeles, and finally came out on the other side into Orange County traffic, which lightened as they continued south toward San Diego. They knew they were getting close when they caught occasional glimpses of bright ocean.
They checked into the hotel and noticed that a majority of cars in the parking lot boasted USMC stickers. They found a place to eat and then turned in early. Bebe shared a bed with Rain, and Dylan and Neil wrestled for blankets on the other bed. Like a kid on Christmas Eve, Bebe had difficulty sleeping. Not only was she excited to see Scott, but she also harbored worry about Bobby in her mind.
The next morning, a long line of cars snaked through the gate at MCRD and they got out of the car at the checkpoint to let the MPs check over the car, including the trunk and under the hood. Other families stood around waiting for their cars to be checked: mothers, fathers, grandparents, brothers, sisters, cousins, children, and babies. Bebe began to wish that they had a better showing for Family Day and hoped that Scott wouldn’t be too disappointed with just the four of them.
The day began with an orientation in the courtyard with the drill instructor. Afterward, they heard deep male voices chanting in the distance. A twitter ran through the crowd as more people recognized the sound. The officer explained that the recruits were doing a motivational run and would line up behind a rope barrier where they could find their recruit, but the recruits were not yet permitted to interact with them. Then they would return to their squad bay to get cleaned up and the ceremony would soon follow, after which they would be able to spend the afternoon on base together.
The families hurried en masse to the roped area and waited in anticipation. Bebe heard the voices grow louder. Her heart swelled with pride and she felt tears prick her eyes at the thought of seeing Scotty again.
A blur of green T-shirts and running shorts bobbed along and stopped behind the rope directly across from the waving and yelling families. The men snapped to parade rest, standing stony-faced, with eyes focusing on a point beyond the heads of their ecstatic families, just six feet away.
Bebe scanned the faces, anxious that she would miss Scott.
“Do you see him?” Bebe yelled to Neil, who stood taller than the others in front of them.
Neil shook his head and continued to scan the crowd. It was impossible to tell one from the other, they had so assimilated with short hair and bodies tightened by being pushed to unfamiliar limits. Not one of them cracked a smile. The noise was unbelievable. Every family member shouted and waved at their recruit.
“There he is!” Neil shouted. He grabbed Bebe’s arm and pushed her ahead of him through the pulsing crowd. And there he was, standing tall behind the rope, tanned and looking so much older, the muscles in his arms more defined and his face slim and etched.
She yelled and gestured along with the thousands of other family members, but Scott focused on a point where faces couldn’t be discerned. It was like being on the other side of a looking glass and not being able to communicate. Soon, the drill sergeant gave them the signal to move on, and they jogged out of sight.
They looked from one to the other with shining eyes and then followed the group to the auditorium and found seats. The group was addressed by officers about the day’s coming events and shown a slideshow about boot camp. Bebe was amazed at the challenging training that Scotty had experienced over the last thirteen weeks.
After what seemed like an eternity, they were told to move to the stands where the ceremony would take place. The officers stated clearly and in no uncertain terms that they were not to cross the parade deck, as it was only for Marines who had successfully completed boot camp. Bebe was amazed at how many clueless people still crossed onto the blacktop and were sternly reminded to go around. They took seats directly in front of the area where Scott’s platoon would be standing to receive the eagle, globe, and anchor. The crowd reached fever pitch when they heard the first platoon enter the parade grounds. Everyone stood and craned their necks to see the lines of uniformed men marching in to stand before the crowd.
Orders were given, and far down the line, out of sight, Bebe heard the slap of each unit turning as one to face the stands. Bebe couldn’t see Scott until his platoon turned with a snap. There, in front of her on the parade deck, was her son in his uniform. Neil took pictures, and then handed the camera to Bebe when she tugged at his sleeve. She fumbled with the zoom lens, and finally focused on his handsome face, resplendent in detail. He looked for all the world like a man. In spite of herself, she couldn’t help thinking of Bobby in his army uniform, looking young and grim. Turmoil and regret for the way things turned out welled up inside her. She almost wished that he were there to see it, too.
It was a beautiful San Diego morning, and the sun heated up the crowds in the metal stands while they waited for each recruit in each platoon to be pinned. Finally, the staff sergeant stood before Scott and handed the pin to him. Scott removed his cover and fumbled with the back of the pin, taking long moments to get it correctly positioned. Then he stood saluting his sergeant, and they moved on to the next recruit. He was no longer a recruit, but now officially a Marine.
Then the last platoon was pinned and the men were released to be with their families. Everyone rushed down the stands and dispersed through the crowd to find their loved ones. When she caught up with Scotty, Dylan had him in a bear hug, pounding his back. He released Scott as Bebe came forward to throw her arms around him. He smelled like freshly pressed laundry and shaving cream, and he hugged her tight. Tears welled in her eyes and she was lau
ghing in spite of it. Neil hugged him and lifted him off the ground. Rain even wiped away some tears of her own. Bebe was so glad to have her along. She really was part of their family.
They spent the day with Scotty on the base, eating lunch at the Bay View Restaurant and shopping for Marine Corps T-shirts, license plate frames, and bumper stickers. Scotty walked tall and was a perfect gentleman, giving his arm formally to Bebe, always aware of the fact that he had not yet graduated and was still under scrutiny while on base. He showed them around and talked about the guys he’d met and their experiences, especially about the crucible, that challenging two-and-a-half-day test, putting what they had learned into practice. He didn’t seem overly disappointed that no other family members attended.
The time finally came to say good-bye until the next morning when they would see him graduate and take him home for ten days’ liberty. They pulled away, and Bebe watched him through the window as he waved and joined some friends who were walking back to the squad bay.
The next morning, they checked out of the hotel, loaded the car, and headed over to MCRD to find a spot on the aluminum bleachers for the graduation ceremony. The color guard preceded the men on the parade deck, who marched out with perfect precision, and the band played the Marine Hymn. Bebe was moved by the music and the expansive American flag as it unfurled in the breeze over the proceedings. She silently wished that her parents were here to see him. They would have been so proud. She wondered if they’d regretted not coming, after all.
In no time, the ceremony was over and they were hugging Scott again in a crush of family members trying to locate their Marines. He grabbed his duffel bag and hoisted it over his shoulder as they headed for the car.
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