“No. I got some disappointing news this week, that’s all.”
“But it’s about infertility, isn’t it?” Christina blushed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. It’s none of my business.”
Megan stared at her, open-mouthed. Christina pulled into the parking lot of an ice cream parlor and got out. Megan followed, trailing Christina inside. “How did you know?”
Christina shrugged. “I imagine it weighs on your mind. How could it not?” She stepped up to the counter. “I’ll have cheesecake ice cream with raspberries, and give this lady whatever she wants.”
“Cake batter with brownies,” Megan stuttered. Christina paid, and Megan picked up her bowl and followed Christina to a table. “People rarely talk to me about infertility. They talk at me a lot, but not to me.”
Christina slid into a chair and gave Megan a sympathetic I-know-what-you’re-going-through kind of smile. Did she know what Megan went through on a daily basis? Had Christina been putting up a front?
“You sound like you really understand,” Megan said suspiciously.
“I don’t,” Christina said after a few bites of ice cream. “No one does, because no one is going through exactly what you are. But I know sometimes having someone listen is enough.”
“They canceled an IUI,” Megan said. She felt the tears coming, and for once she didn’t fight them. “An artificial insemination. The Clomid didn’t work. I’m not going to ovulate, and now we have to wait another month. And maybe it still won’t work.”
“That’s awful.”
“We’ve tried almost everything. IUIs, the homeopathic route. I’ve done acupuncture, acupressure, zone therapy, reflexology. Pretty much the only thing we haven’t done is in vitro. If I knew when we’d get a baby, I wouldn’t care. But I don’t. Right now we’re throwing money down a very large drain. And I hate it.”
“I can’t even imagine.”
“It bugs me that I pay all this money with no guarantees. Why is it that at a fertility clinic, if I don’t get what I paid for, I can’t complain? If I ordered a laptop off of Amazon and all I got was a USB drive, I’d sure as heck demand a refund. But at fertility clinics you can’t do that.”
Christina choked on her ice cream, then started laughing. “I never thought of it that way, but you’re totally right.”
“Yeah,” Megan said suspiciously. “It’s hard because these stupid fertility drugs make me act like a crazy person.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. And I hope to never know. But it’s so unfair that everyone else seems to get pregnant at the drop of a hat and you keep struggling.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Megan took a big bite of her ice cream. “I mean look at Kyra. She has this beautiful daughter, and I bet she got pregnant on the first try.”
Christina shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. She might keep her struggles quiet.”
Megan scrutinized Christina. “Are you keeping something quiet?”
She laughed, but it sounded off. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve told you I’m focusing on my career. I’m just suggesting maybe Kyra’s life isn’t as it appears.”
“Do you know something you aren’t telling me?”
“No. But Kyra did have the miscarriage. And Sophie’s almost four, so I’ve wondered.” She took another bite of ice cream. “It’s probably nothing. I don’t want to start rumors, but Kyra doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who would want her kids spaced far apart.”
“I do feel awful about her miscarriage. But I haven’t exactly kept it a secret that I’m infertile. If Kyra is struggling, she could talk to me about it.” Megan hoped her implication was clear.
“Kyra is a private person. I don’t know if she’d ever say anything to anybody.”
Was Christina trying to tell Megan something? Or was Megan reading too much into the situation?
Christina scraped the bottom of her ice cream bowl. “That was delicious. I know I feel better now.”
Megan smiled, taking her last bite as well. “Me too. Thanks for talking to me. It’s nice to know I have friends.”
“I know what you mean.” Christina smiled shyly. “I haven’t had a real friend in a long time.”
Christina clutched Gary’s hand as they entered the sterile white waiting room of the hospital. His fingers squeezed hers, the gesture both unfamiliar and comforting. Nerves still ate at her stomach, but this felt so different from her visit to the gynecologist. Gary was here, and that made all the difference.
After checking in at registration, they headed to radiology. The click of Christina’s heels echoed in the empty hallway, and her fingers ached from clutching the completed registration form.
The nurse at radiology took the form and told them to have a seat. The blue plastic cushions on the chairs squeaked embarrassingly when they sat down. The nondescript artwork hanging on the blindingly white walls managed to be both modern and cold at the same time. Christina clutched at the straps of her purse. Gary put an arm around her shoulder tentatively, as though not sure what to do. Not sure what to say.
“Christina Vincent.”
Her stomach flipped as they walked toward the nurse holding a folder with Christina’s pre-admittance paper stapled to the front.
“Right this way,” the nurse said.
Gary’s hand reached for Christina’s, and she clung to it gratefully. An exam table, covered in sterile white paper, stood in the center of the room. A giant machine splayed out four feet above the table, and a monitor stood to one side.
“Undress and put this hospital gown on,” the nurse said, handing it to Christina. “The radiologist will be here soon.”
Though Christina had undressed in front of Gary a thousand times, this time felt awkward and uncomfortable. She turned her back to him and quickly slipped into the hospital gown, then sat down on the exam table. She spread the thin paper blanket over herself, tucking it under her legs for maximum coverage. They waited in silence, her hands clutched in her lap, heart racing and breath coming in spurts.
Eventually the door opened, and a man in scrubs walked in, hand extended. “I’m Paul. I’ll be doing the HSG today.” He washed his hands in the sink, then pulled on plastic gloves. He returned with a long, thin tube. “I’m going to insert this catheter and push dye through it. If you’ll lie down, Christina.” A nurse appeared, handing Gary an apron shield and explaining he needed to wear it so he wouldn’t be exposed to the radiation.
Christina lay down. her whole body trembling uncontrollably.
“Try to relax,” Paul said. “It’ll make this less uncomfortable. Here comes the catheter.”
Christina felt pressure and sharp pinpricks of pain, but no worse than the pap smear she’d had a week ago. Her hands clutched into fists over her stomach, eyes riveted to the screen.
“Now I’m going to push the dye through,” Paul continued. Black appeared on the screen. It flowed upward and seemed to stop.
Christina yelped, her fists clenching tight. Excruciating pain. Gary leaned forward as though to help, but froze. He wasn’t supposed to stand too close.
“Do you need me to stop?” Paul asked.
“No,” Christina gasped. Her abdomen cramped and burned as though on fire. Black spots dotted her vision, and she wondered if she’d pass out.
And then the pain lessened. The cramping was still there, still intense, but bearable now. She could breathe again.
“All done,” Paul said. “Are you okay?”
Christina smiled grimly, moving to a sitting position. Gary jumped forward to help. “I’m fine.” What else could she say?
Gary ran a hand through his hair. “So how did things look?”
The cramping had subsided to normal period pain, but the pit in Christina’s gut told her something was wrong.
“You’ll have to talk to your doctor,” Paul said. “As a radiology technician I’m not qualified to read the labs for you.”
“But you can tell us what you saw,” Gary pressed.
Pau
l took off his gloves, throwing them in a nearby trash can. “Yes. I wasn’t able to push any dye through the right tube. And on the left side, it didn’t spill out normally. I can’t tell you more than that. Your doctor will contact you in a few days with the official results.”
As they left the hospital, Christina said, “It’s bad, Gary. Isn’t it?”
He sighed and tightened his fingers around hers. “Let’s not get upset yet. That guy said himself he’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. How they can let some tech do this sort of thing,” he muttered under his breath.
Christina prayed everything would be okay.
The next few days were hard. Christina called the doctor’s office the day after the HSG, but Dr. Blakely hadn’t read the results yet. Christina was assured the doctor would call soon.
Trista and Christina were finalizing the curriculum for the after-school program when she got the call.
“I need to take this,” Christina told Trista. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Trista muttered under her breath as Christina stepped into the hallway, but Christina didn’t care.
“This is Christina,” she said into the phone.
“Hi, Christina. This is Dr. Blakely. I’m calling with the results of your HSG test. Is now a good time?”
Her stomach fluttered. “Yes.”
“I’ll cut right to the chase. The results were inconclusive. Your right tube appears blocked, but it’s unclear from the HSG whether or not your left tube is functioning normally.”
“What does that mean?” Frustration welled in the form of tears. Why couldn’t the stupid results just tell her what was going on?
“It means in order for us to fully understand what’s happening, we need to do a laparoscopy. If there is endometriosis present, I’ll clean out what I can, and we’ll go from there.”
“Surgery?” Christina whispered the word, her world spinning out of control.
“It’s a small incision and easy recovery. You shouldn’t have to miss more than a few days of work. I’d like to do it as soon as possible.”
“Okay.” Her voice was small.
“I’ll transfer you over to scheduling. I’m really sorry, Christina. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear. Do you have any more questions for me?”
Christina should be bombarding Dr. Blakely with questions. But instead she said, “No.” She couldn’t think of a single thing to ask.
Scheduling helped Christina get everything arranged. The surgery would be in three weeks. Christina hung up the phone, dazed. She needed to talk to Gary, but his number went to voice mail.
“The results were inconclusive,” Christina told the answering machine. “I’m having surgery on May ninth to try and determine what’s wrong. Call me when you get a minute.” It wasn’t the best way to break the news, but it was all she could come up with at the moment.
Gary’s Lexus was already in the garage when Christina arrived home. She got out of her car and glanced at her cell. It was only five o’clock. He opened the mud room door, clearly waiting for her.
“What did the doctor say?” he asked.
Christina slowly unbuttoned her pea coat. “What are you doing home already?”
His eyebrow rose, as though surprised she’d asked. “I couldn’t stay at work once I got your message. Are you okay?”
Christina stopped unbuttoning her coat in surprise, then leaned forward and kissed Gary. “Yes. It means a lot to me that you’re here.”
He shuffled his feet, looking down. “Well, I did bring a few hours of work home. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” Gary had come home early because she needed him. He could work all night if necessary and she wouldn’t complain.
Over reheated spaghetti, they talked in more detail about Dr. Blakely’s phone call. Then Gary went to his office, and Christina sat down to watch TV and grade spelling tests. It was no use, though. All she could think about was her upcoming surgery. What would happen? What would they find? Would she ever be able to have children? The questions spiraled in her brain until she thought she’d throw up. She switched to a math test—much easier to grade, since all she had to do was compare numbers to the answer key.
The doorbell rang, and Christina looked up from the test in surprise. She set down her red pen and walked to the front door, peering through the peep hole. Megan stood on the front steps, smiling.
“Hi, Megan. What a pleasant surprise.”
Megan held out a plate of cupcakes. “I made these tonight, and there were way too many for me and Trent. Sorry, they’re not organic or anything.”
Christina took the cupcakes. “They smell delicious. Thank you.”
Megan nodded, peering intently at Christina. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course.” Christina wanted to tell Megan about her upcoming surgery. But it was too embarrassing. Megan would know Christina had lied about not wanting kids.
Megan snorted. “Come on, Christina. You were acting strange at the ice cream parlor, and you’re acting stranger now. What’s going on?”
Christina fidgeted with the plastic wrap covering the cupcakes. “Just stressed about the after-school program.” Oh, yeah. And I’m having surgery. And maybe I’ll never have kids.
Megan folded her arms, rocking back on her heels. “I’m just going to say it, because wondering is driving me nuts. I swear we were having a double conversation the other day. Are you infertile?”
Christina’s mouth fell open. She closed it, looking down at the plate of cupcakes. She didn’t know if she should be relieved Megan knew or humiliated. “What makes you ask that?”
Megan threw up her hands. “Were we even having the same conversation the other day? If I’m wrong, tell me, and I’ll bug off. But I’ve been infertile my entire marriage. I know a sister in the Land of IF when I see one.”
Christina opened her mouth, ready to deny Megan’s accusation. But then she stopped. The suspicion would always be there now. And Megan might be able to answer Christina’s questions. She lowered her eyes, wanting to shy away from the prying questions, but wanting answers more. Megan would probably even understand why Christina had told a white lie to cover up the truth. “I’m having surgery in three weeks. They think I have endometriosis.”
“I knew it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was embarrassed,” Christina admitted. “I made such a big deal over not wanting kids yet.”
“Okay, we’re having this conversation. Spill.”
Christina led Megan inside. It all came out, a tidal wave of hidden information. Nothing she said seemed to shock or surprise Megan. Her face remained impassive through it all.
“I wish you’d told me earlier,” Megan said when Christina finished explaining. “We could have helped each other.”
“I’m not ready for everyone to know.”
“But I’m not everyone.”
Christina smiled. “True. Who knows? Maybe I’m freaking out over nothing. They might not find anything during surgery.” Which could be even worse. At least if they knew what the problem was, they’d know how to fix it.
“I’m wishing you all the baby dust in the world,” Megan said.
Christina wrinkled her brow. “Baby dust? What the heck is that?”
Megan laughed. “It’s like fairy dust for the infertile. I see it on infertility message boards all the time. It’s like saying ‘I hope you get pregnant’ or ‘good luck.’”
“Well, I’ll take baby dust and fairy dust and any other kind of dust that’ll give me a baby.”
“Keep thinking positively. Maybe you’re right, and they’ll find out nothing’s wrong.” But Megan’s eyes said she didn’t believe that.
Neither did Christina.
When Megan left two hours later, Christina felt infinitely better. Relieved. She wondered why on earth she hadn’t told Megan over ice cream or when Megan told her about Sienna or a dozen other times. Megan had answered Christina’s questions
, shared her experiences, and given Christina a glimpse into what lay ahead.
Megan empathized. She understood.
Christina didn’t feel ready for the future, but she definitely felt more prepared for it. At this point, that was all she could ask.
The two-week wait was worse this time around. Kyra wasn’t just worried about getting pregnant—she was worried about giving birth to a healthy baby. From the moment they got home from the IUI, she started obsessively googling everything from “IUI + Clomid” to “early pregnancy symptoms” to “fertility after a miscarriage.” Kyra wavered between being absolutely certain the IUI had worked and being convinced it hadn’t.
David called on his lunch break and informed Kyra he’d be pulling another late night at the office. She got Sophie down for the night, then treated herself to a bowl of ice cream and TV time. Kyra was starting to really enjoy herself when her cell phone rang—David’s number.
“Hey,” she said, holding the phone between her shoulder and ear and scraping the last of the ice cream out of the bowl.
“The car won’t start,” David said, his voice tight with stress.
Kyra set aside the bowl and gripped the phone. “What do you mean it won’t start?”
“I turn the key in the ignition and nothing. Everyone on my team has already left for the night.”
Kyra bit her lip. “What should we do?”
“Isn’t there someone in the neighborhood we can call?”
Kyra sighed, knowing the answer. “Cassandra. She is going to regret the day we moved in next door.”
Cassandra’s phone rang and rang and rang, eventually going to voice mail. Kyra hung up without leaving a message. Who else could she call? They weren’t especially close to anyone nearby.
Megan and Christina. Kyra walked into the kitchen and set her ice cream bowl on the counter. Magneted to the fridge was a blue greeting card with a white daisy. Kyra had meant to throw it away after consuming the cookies, but she’d kept it for some reason. Kyra opened the card.
Kyra, I am so sorry about the miscarriage. Please let me know if there’s ever anything you need. I’m here to help. Call me anytime, day or night.
Chasing Someday Page 14