“Our kitchen wall wasn’t too fond of it either,” Trent said, his mouth curled up in a smirk.
The door opened, and Trent and Megan both rose.
“Hello,” the woman said with a smile, extending a hand. The barest of wrinkles framed kind eyes, and her chin-length brown hair was streaked with gray. “I’m Dr. Mendoza. You must be Trenton and Megan.”
“I go by Trent.” He smiled to soften the words.
“Trent it is.” Dr. Mendoza sank into the swivel chair behind the desk. She perched reading glasses on her nose and opened their charts. “Let’s get right to it. Dr. Faulkner’s office faxed your medical records, but I want to verify everything’s accurate. It looks like we’re dealing with PCOS and low sperm count.”
“That’s us,” Megan said with fake cheerfulness.
“You worked with Dr. Faulkner for almost three years?”
Megan shifted in her chair. “Yes. And we tried the holistic route for a year before that. Trent’s also worked with a urologist.”
“It says here you’ve attempted IUIs.”
“We were scheduled for eight,” Megan said, her throat tight. “But we’ve only done five. The others three had to be canceled either because I didn’t ovulate or the sperm count was too low to proceed.”
“How did you respond to Clomid?” Dr. Mendoza asked.
Emotionally? Not well. Megan shrugged. “It depended on the cycle. In the beginning I did well on Metformin. For about six months we did timed intercourse, but then I stopped ovulating again. That’s when we switched to Clomid. We started out at fifty milligrams and gradually worked up to one hundred fifty milligrams.”
Dr. Mendoza pursed her lips, appearing to be deep in thought. “I spoke to Dr. Faulkner about your case. He approaches fertility treatments a little differently than I do. I usually recommend three IUIs on Clomid and three on injectables before moving on to IVF. I rarely see couples get pregnant from IUI after more than six attempts. If it’s going to work, it should by then.”
Megan’s heart sank.
“Where does that leave us?” Trent asked.
Megan wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the answer.
“We have a few options,” Dr. Mendoza said. “We can do a cycle of IUI on two hundred milligrams of Clomid and see if Megan ovulates. If not, we can move to injectables and try two or three IUIs on those and hope we’re successful. Or we can skip the IUIs, since you’ve already tried that route, and go straight to IVF.”
Megan looked at Trent. “What would you recommend?” he asked.
“I think we should try IUI with Clomid. I’m sure Dr. Faulkner is proficient at his job, but we have a great success rate here, and I think it would be worth our time to explore that option again. It’s so much more affordable than in vitro. Since we don’t know what’s changed in the last eight months, I’d also like to do blood work and another semen analysis.”
It was more or less what they’d expected, but Megan’s stomach still tied itself in knots. Clomid. Again.
“What do you think?” Megan asked Trent.
“I think we should go with Dr. Mendoza’s recommendation.” His eyes apologized, but his voice was resolute. “It’s worth it if it works, right?”
Megan closed her eyes, breathing deeply to ease the tightening in her chest. She imagined a tiny pink face with her lips and Trent’s nose. It was time to push forward. “Okay, let’s try IUI with Clomid. I really don’t want to do in vitro unless it’s our only hope.”
“I think that’s a good choice,” Dr. Mendoza said. “Let’s talk about your cycles. How long has it been since your last period?”
“Seventy days,” Megan said.
“I’ll write you a prescription to see if we can get it to start. We want to get this ball rolling.”
They talked for a while longer. Trent and Megan had their blood drawn, and he gave a sperm sample. They left with plans to call when—make that if—Megan’s period ever decided to start.
“How do you feel about things?” Trent asked on the drive home.
“Cautious,” Megan admitted.
“I’m sorry if I pushed you into the IUI. I know you don’t want to do Clomid. But I’m ready to be a dad.”
“No, you were right to push. I’m not ready to jump into IVF.” If Clomid was bad, Megan was sure to be a mental case on all the hormone drugs required for IVF.
Trent frowned. “Are you saying you won’t consider in vitro?”
Megan didn’t have to think about it for long. “If it comes to that, I’ll do it. But we should give IUI one last shot. Even if it’s already failed five times.”
“Yes, but never on two hundred milligrams of Clomid. Maybe the higher dosage will make a difference.”
Or maybe it would make her crazier. Megan fingered the prescription in her hand. Prayed it would help her period start. “I hope it does make a difference. I’m ready to jump off this infertility ride and be done.”
“So after we have one, you don’t want to go through it all again for a second child?”
Megan sighed. “Ask me again when the time comes. I always wanted a houseful of kids. But lately, all I want is one or two to call my own and the relief of never having to take another hormone pill.” The fertility drugs increased their chance of having multiples, but Megan wasn’t holding her breath that they’d get that lucky.
Trent and Megan went out to dinner and a movie again that evening. Surprisingly enough, the next morning her period started. Usually it took the pills longer than a day to take effect. She pulled out her cell phone and opened the fertility app. A wheel spun on the home page, indicating Megan was on day seventy-one of her cycle. She marked that her period had started, and the wheel circled back to one.
Here we go. She prayed they’d be able to hang on tight for the next few months.
Saturday night after Sophie went to bed, David cornered Kyra. “We need to talk.”
Kyra didn’t look away from the bookcase she was alphabetizing. “About what?”
He took the book from her hand and placed it on the shelf, then guided her toward the couch. “About doing another IUI.”
The miscarriage had made Kyra more desperate for a baby than ever. But she couldn’t see a way around their current financial situation. She chewed on a fingernail. “Why even discuss it? That IUI was our one shot. If you get the position, we can re-evaluate.”
“Do you need more time, Kyra?”
She played with a loose thread on the couch. They’d bought it at a yard sale when they were first married, and it really looked the worse for wear. “For what?”
His hand fell over hers. She finally looked up. “Are you ready to have a baby?” David asked.
She didn’t have to think twice. “Yes. But—”
“No buts. If you’re ready, we’ll figure out the money. Let’s go over the finances again and make this work. I’ll go get the laptop and meet you at the kitchen table.”
Forty agonizing minutes later, a baby felt further away than ever.
“There’s nowhere else to cut corners,” Kyra said. “There’s not enough money to make it happen.”
“Not true. I think if we’re really careful, we can make it work.”
“We have your student loans now.” Bitterness crept into her voice. The loans had been in deferment until this month, and now they had to start making payments.
“There’s enough left from our tax return that we can squeeze in one more.”
“And what happens when that doesn’t work?” She pointed to the computer screen. “We’re barely able to make ends meet as it is. Between the medical bills and student loans, we’re treading water. That tax return is the only savings we have. What do we do when an unexpected expense comes up if we spend it?”
“I have my six-month review at work in a few weeks. I should get a decent raise. And maybe I’ll get the promotion.”
Kyra folded her arms and shook her head. “Who are we kidding? We can barely afford the one child we have. M
aybe the miscarriage was God’s way of telling us we shouldn’t have another baby.”
“No.” David’s hand clamped tight on her shoulder. “Don’t think like that. We prayed about that first IUI. We knew it was the right thing to do. And I think emptying our savings for another one is the right thing to do now.”
The hole in her heart begged her to take another chance. “It really would be the last IUI we can afford.”
David nodded. “I know. Promise me we can at least think about it?”
“Okay.”
On Sunday morning, Kyra, David, and Sophie fell into their seats mere moments before the pastor started the services. The choir sang a hymn while Sophie played with a rag doll, and then the pastor stood to begin his sermon.
“Mommy,” Sophie said, a bit too loudly.
Kyra pulled Sophie onto her lap, holding her close. “Shhh, baby girl,” Kyra whispered. “We use our quiet voices at church. What do you need?”
Sophie held the doll out to Kyra. “I want her to wear the pink dress.”
“As of late, I have felt impressed to speak to our congregation about the dangers of debt,” the pastor announced.
Kyra’s hand froze on the doll. After last night’s conversation, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear this. Sometimes debt couldn’t be avoided, and they had more than their fair share.
“What I say today may be hard for you to hear,” the pastor continued. “Many of you will argue that there are many things worth going into debt for. But I think the Lord would disagree. I strongly encourage each and every one of you to pray for guidance before going into any more debt. Avoid it whenever possible.”
Kyra’s hands fumbled with the button on the doll clothes she was changing. David and Kyra had tried their best to avoid debt. They didn’t use credit cards. They hadn’t bought a second vehicle. But what about a baby? Surely the Lord wouldn’t want them to put off having a family. They wouldn’t exactly be going into debt for this IUI, if they decided to do it. But they would be emptying their savings account, which could translate to more debt if an unexpected expense arose.
“Mama,” Sophie whined. “Change faster.”
“Sorry.” Kyra switched the doll into a ballerina leotard. But the pastor’s words kept floating around in her head. Kyra listened carefully to the rest of his sermon, alert and attentive for the first time all morning, but he never said anything specifically about going into debt for a baby. Not that she had expected him to.
After the services, Kyra and David dropped Sophie off at the nursery and headed to their Bible study class. David saw a neighbor and wandered over to talk with him while Kyra took a seat.
“Hey.” Megan slipped into the seat beside Kyra. “How are you doing?”
Kyra forced a smile. “I’m good. How are you?”
“I’m loving today’s weather. It’s so warm for March.”
Kyra hadn’t noticed. “Must be spring.”
“Spring comes much later in Logan. It’s nice to have some warmth and sunshine.”
Kyra barely heard Megan. A baby or financial solvency? The two batted around in Kyra’s head, like a ping-pong ball. Which took precedence?
Ask Megan. Kyra pushed the thought away. Megan might know about the world of infertility treatments. But with two incomes, Kyra doubted the Burkes struggled financially.
“Can I sit here?” Christina pointed to a seat on the other side of Kyra, leaving an empty space between them. “I’ll leave a spot for your husband.”
“Sure,” Kyra said.
Christina smiled her thanks. They made small talk until the assistant pastor stood, signaling the beginning of Bible study, and David slipped into his seat.
“Today I wanted to focus on the Bible’s teachings about raising a righteous posterity,” the assistant pastor said.
Kyra’s heart sank. Maybe she should go home and sleep the day away.
Megan reached out and squeezed Kyra’s hand. Kyra looked up in surprise. Megan’s eyes were full of empathy. “Sorry,” Megan mouthed.
Kyra gave a tiny smile of thanks.
The assistant pastor went on and on about how man and woman had been created to multiply and replenish the earth. How it wasn’t something they should put off for any reason.
Like financial difficulties.
Each word was a knife to the heart. I’m trying! Kyra cried to the Lord. I’m willing. But You took our baby away.
How did this lesson fit with the earlier sermon? What if the only way to have more children required going into debt? If the next IUI worked and they were careful for a few months, maybe everything would be fine. But if they had to do a third IUI, they would need a loan. Which commandment was more important to obey? Kyra felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden, being told to multiply and replenish while also being asked to not eat the fruit.
She wasn’t ready to give up. They couldn’t stop trying now. If the IUI hadn’t worked last time, maybe Kyra would call it quits.
But it had worked. And their baby had died.
Tell me what to do, Lord. Should we be financially responsible? Or should we move forward with infertility treatments?
A slow warmth spread through Kyra, and tears sprang to her eyes. Thank you. Maybe it wasn’t the right decision for everyone. But for their family, they needed to move forward with the IUI. The money was worth it.
It’ll work, Kyra told herself as the assistant pastor finished the lesson. The next IUI will work. She bowed her head for the prayer. They wouldn’t have to take out any loans. David would get the promotion. Things would go in their favor.
A collective “amen” sounded from the room, and Kyra’s eyes popped open. “Are you okay?” Christina asked, peering around David.
“Lessons like this suck,” Megan said. “Geez, I’m sorry, Kyra.”
“I’m fine,” Kyra assured both of them, ignoring David’s raised eyebrow. She knew which direction they needed to head.
They said their goodbyes, and Kyra and David picked up Sophie from the nursery. “Look, Mommy!” Sophie shoved a picture toward her. “I colored it for you so you won’t be sad anymore.”
Kyra took the picture. It was mostly scribbles, with the words “Jesus Loves Me” typed across the top. “Thanks, baby girl.” Kyra gave Sophie a kiss on the cheek, then took Sophie’s hand in hers. “I love it.”
In the car, David asked, “Is everything okay?”
Kyra nodded. “I think we should do the IUI.”
“Really?”
“It feels right.”
He grinned. “It does. Things will work out this time. I know it.”
“Dr. Mendoza said with such an early miscarriage, as soon as I have a period, we can try again.”
“Do you need more time?”
“No. I already feel like we’ve waited so long.” Don’t let anything bad happen again, Kyra prayed. Please, please, please.
Stacey was right. Christina never should’ve agreed to the after-school program.
She tried to keep her eyes from widening as Trista droned on and on about her ideas for the class. When Christina had agreed to the job, she’d envisioned empowering downtrodden students. It was something to fill the empty hours until Gary got home, and had the added bonus of that warm glow that comes from helping others.
What Trista had in mind was an intense, two-month program designed to encompass even the most obscure risky behaviors. Trista’s curriculum involved way more work than Christina had anticipated. Her ten-hour a week side-job would become a thirty-hour a week second career if she didn’t redirect Trista soon.
“I thought maybe you’d like to teach the lesson on verbal manipulation,” Trista was saying.
Time to derail this train before it derailed Christina. “These are some great ideas, Trista. But we have one chance to get the district to fund this program. I really feel like we should focus on the most common and easily recognized risky behaviors. That’s what the district will look for, and I think that’s what Principal Gardner had in min
d. Once the program is successful, maybe they’ll want to include a more comprehensive list of concerns.”
Trista’s eyebrows knit together in displeasure. “Anybody can conduct that type of program. If that’s what Principal Gardner wanted, he could’ve asked any first-year teacher or intern.” She inclined her head as though to say, Maybe that’s why he asked you.
Christina frowned. “I think Principal Gardner asked us to co-chair the program because we both have a lot to offer.”
“I think we should be thorough and include all information.”
What would Gary say if he knew what a disaster this was turning into? Not that Christina would tell him.
Christina left Trista’s classroom feeling tired, frustrated, and overwhelmed. How was she supposed to work with such a difficult co-chair? And how on earth were the kids going to get the instruction they needed with Trista around?
Christina wanted to go home and unwind. Maybe she’d allow herself a couple spoonfuls of chocolate frosting and thirty minutes with the TV before starting dinner.
Linda stepped out of the front office as Christina walked past, blocking her exit. “Hey, Christina. Do you have a few minutes?”
Christina hitched her bag up higher on her shoulder and smiled. “Sure. What can I do for you?”
“Principal Gardner wants an update on the outreach program. I was going to schedule something for tomorrow, but he’s free now.”
“Sounds great,” Christina said, less than enthusiastic.
Principal Gardner’s door was open, and he looked up, obviously hearing her approach. “Oh good. I wanted to talk to you.” He stood behind his desk, gathering papers to place in his briefcase. “How’s the program coming along?”
If Christina mentioned Trista, would Principal Gardner think Christina incompetent? Would he regret asking her to co-chair? “It’s coming along.”
Principal Gardner frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“Not exactly.” She’d better mention the situation before Trista skewed the story. “Trista and I had a disagreement today. She’s under the impression you want a detailed program encompassing every possible at-risk behavior, whereas it was my understanding our job was to give an overview and teach coping skills.”
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