by Amanda Aksel
“Thanks,” I said.
She sent me a sweet wink with a warm smile. “No problem.”
By the time I returned to my desk with a fresh cup of tea, Katie had already emailed me the info for Dr. Pia Pardasani. I recognized her name from my search earlier, highly recommended. I picked up my desk phone. My finger was inches from the keypad, but I couldn't hit the numbers. My heart raced as I imagined James and I sitting in front of our doctor's desk, while she used the words indefinitely infertile. I didn’t even know if that was a real term, but it was my greatest nightmare.
“How's it going?” Andy sauntered into my office.
I slammed the receiver down. “Fine. I'm fine.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I smiled brightly, fidgeting my arms. “Don't I seem fine?”
“You know, I've known you long enough now to tell when you're hiding something, something that you don't show because if you did we'd all know you were crazy, but the truth is, we already know you're nuts.”
My brow furrowed. I’d known him long enough to say that no one got under my skin like he did. “As my ex-therapist, are you allowed to call me crazy?”
“Yes, but that's not my professional diagnosis, that’s just an obvious observation.”
I steeped the teabag in and out of my hot mug, breathing in the cinnamon chai scent. “I may get a little crazy sometimes, but so do you.”
“What do you mean?” He folded his arms.
“I mean you're a middle-aged man, still acting like a twenty-one-year-old bachelor. Don't you want to settle down?” I said it the way I imagined his mother would.
“Why does everyone want to settle down? It's just so boring and predictable. Especially you. You're a smart girl, why don't you travel the world instead? Quit counseling and move to Florence for a year just because.”
“Those aren't my dreams. Having a family may be a boring dream to you, but to me it's very exciting,” I said before sipping my tea. Ooh, that’s hot.
He gave me a crooked look and it became clear that Andy and I were cut from different cloths. He'd never understand why I'd want stability and I'd never understand why he wouldn't. Each of us were chasing our own ideas of excitement.
“You sure you really want a baby? It's so expensive. Why don't you get a dog instead,” he suggested.
I shot him a wry look. “We already have a dog.”
“Yeah, but that's James' dog. You could get your own, like one of those little yip-yip puppies.”
I gritted my teeth. Why did he always patronize me? “It's not the same as a baby.”
He shrugged. “It might surprise you.”
I let out a sigh and tugged on my lower lip.
“What's the matter?” Andy asked, moving closer to my desk.
I stared at him for a few moments. “My pregnancy test was negative. My twelfth pregnancy test. Katie gave me the name of a fertility specialist, but I'm afraid to call.”
He let out a small chuckle. “Marin, you've never been one to run away from a situation. You always dive in head first, sometimes in an unhealthy way. It's your fatal flaw. Trust me, you're not afraid. Maybe you're just taking a much needed pregnant pause.”
I laughed, not because his pun was particularly funny, but because he helped me see that I was being ridiculous. Making that call should’ve done nothing more than empower me.
“See. Now you’re ready to call,” he said, then left my office, shutting the door behind him.
I picked up the receiver and dialed quickly. “Yes, I'd like to make an appointment to see Dr. Pardasani.”
CHAPTER SIX
My Husband Did What?
When I got home that night, Dean Martin crooned through the speakers and was soon followed by the aroma of something yummy. In the kitchen, James was holding the microwave up to wipe the countertop underneath. Watching him clean thoroughly was such a turn-on.
“Hey, babe, whatcha making?” I asked, reaching underneath his shirt and caressing the skin right above his jeans.
He lifted his arm around me, kissing me with his warm lips. “Baked chicken and roasted sweet potatoes. It's almost done. Can you grab some plates?”
I helped him serve up the delicious-looking dinner he'd prepared for us. He told me about his day, which wasn’t different from most days. I lit a candle and we settled into the dining room, steam rising from my freshly cut chicken.
“So, I made an appointment with Dr. Pardasani,” I said, cutting into the meat.
James looked up from his plate. “Who's that?”
“She’s a fertility specialist.” I took a bite of the juicy, perfectly seasoned baked chicken. Not only could my man clean, he could cook. “Baby, this is so good!” I said with a full mouth.
He smiled with a proud look in his blue eyes. “Thanks!” he said with a stuffed mouth of his own. “Are you sure you want to see a fertility specialist already? I know you were really upset the other night, but I think we should just keep trying. I’m sure you’ll get pregnant soon.”
“Might. I might get pregnant soon. Don’t forget, next month our chances of conceiving will drop. I think it's best to just dive in head first so we can increase our chances.”
He went on chewing his meal; a quarter of his chicken was already gone and I had only taken the one bite. “Okay. If this is what you want, I totally support it.”
“Good, because you're getting tested too.”
“What?” His jaw dropped and I was sure a piece of sweet potato was going to fall out. He grabbed his napkin, hiding his mouth behind it. “Why do I have to get tested?”
I gave him a funny look. Surely he knew something about how all of this worked. “Why do you sound so surprised? We need to have all the facts. It takes two to tango, you know? Besides your test is easy, all you have to do is jerk off into a cup.”
He swallowed hard. “Easy? If your test involved getting yourself off in a strange room with dirty magazines in the middle of a doctor’s office, would you call that easy?”
I smirked. It was kinda cute seeing him get all squirmy-wormy. “Guys and girls, honey. You're talking about two different things.”
“It's not that simple.”
I looked into his eyes and I could tell he wasn’t just uncomfortable, he was frightened. Like he wouldn’t be able to get the job done. “James,” I softened my voice, “we've been sleeping together for over three years. You've never had a problem . . . crossing the finish line.”
“That's because I'm having sex with you.” He gestured toward me like any man in his right mind would have no problems in the bedroom with me, like I was some hot piece of ass. After a year of marriage, I was glad he still saw me that way.
“It'll be fine,” I said, but thinking that it better be fine. There was a chance that he’d have to visit this strange room in the middle of a doctor’s office more than once.
“I'm sorry, but I'm really not comfortable with what you're asking.”
I guess I didn’t need a baby because I was already married to one. What was his problem? It wasn't like James to back out of doing something for me—a load of laundry, picking up a missing ingredient from the store; he even painted the nails on my right hand because I was in a rush and didn't have time to clean them up. I can't paint in the lines when it comes to my right hand. Anyway, something was up, and I was in no mood to beat around the bush. This was, after all, Mission: Get Pregnant we were talking about.
I dropped my fork and immediately went into counselor mode, with a little less patience. “Did something happen to you? Did you used to go to the sperm bank to make a little extra cash in college or something?”
He looked up with wide eyes and said nothing. Oh, my God. It was supposed to be a joke. He never said a word about it before. My mind went haywire.
“It was a long time ago,” he said, holding his hands out in front of him like he was backing out of a bad situation.
I shot him a harsh look. “Are you serious ri
ght now?”
“It's something I wasn't really comfortable with then, and even less comfortable with now.”
Comfortable? Did he even think about how comfortable his future wife would feel about this whole thing or was he too busy shooting his wad at the clinic? “So wait a second, how many times did you do it?”
He shrugged. “I dunno, two or three.”
Holy shit. “In San Francisco?”
“Yeah, in the Bay area.” But this time he was cowering in his chair.
I ran my hands down my face, trying like hell not to freak out. “So you're telling me that it's possible some woman in this city could’ve had your baby and that you might have a teenager walking around out there.”
His expression turned serious. “I don't have a kid, Marin. I donated my sperm. It’s different.”
I slammed my fists on the table and Marvin lifted his head, howling at the sound. “Well, you don't seem to understand how biology works.”
“Yes, I do. And I also understand how families work.”
“Aren’t I your family? You're willing to jack off in a cup for some stranger, but you won't do it for me! Your wife!” My hands whooshed wildly in the air, a sure sign I had lost it.
“Fine, I'll do it. I'll go!” he yelled.
I stood up from my chair, nearly knocking it off balance. “You know what? I’m not sure I want to have a baby with you right now.” I stormed upstairs, stomping my feet against the hardwood floor until I reached our bedroom. I locked myself inside the bathroom and sat on the floor, taking a few deep breaths and fighting back tears, not wanting to give the situation the satisfaction of knowing that it hurt me. And James. My perfect man with his secret sperm donations. How could he not tell me? If I hadn't said what I did, would he have ever told me?
It was nearly an hour later when I let myself out of the bathroom. The last twenty minutes of it I spent with my ear against the door, waiting for James to check on me. He never did. When I stepped out, James was sitting on the bed waiting, his head down, looking disappointed, sad, and maybe a little sorry.
“Hey,” I said, meagerly.
He looked up, his blue puppy-dog eyes penetrating my soul. “Hey.”
“I'm sorry about what I said.” I walked over and sat next to him. “I didn't mean it. I was just surprised, and upset. And I'm frustrated.”
“I’m sorry too. I've never seen you so pissed off.”
I bit my lip, feeling a little shame over how I’d acted. It made me think back to all the crazy things I‘d gotten myself into over the last few years. Chad's cheating put me in a tailspin toward insanity, and the proposal fiasco almost caused me to lose the love of my life for a second time. I couldn't let this be another thing to set me off on some crazy path. If I was going to be someone's mother, I was going to need to handle my shit.
I took a deep breath. “I'm just afraid. I don't want to end up like one of those couples that can't get pregnant and they tear each other apart because of it.”
“Look at me,” he said, lifting my chin. “There is nothing that will ever tear us apart, okay? I never thought I'd ever find someone to really love, let alone marry. But I found you. And when I married you, I did it because I knew you were the one. For better or worse. It's not just you anymore, Marin. You have me and I have you and we will have a family, okay?”
Tears puddled in my eyes, then spilled into thin drops on my cheeks. He was right, I didn't need to be afraid because we were already a family and we would eventually have our baby too. “Okay.”
He wiped a tear with his thumb and pulled me in. I sobbed on his chest, feeling a flood of emotions, and all I wanted to do was cry until I fell asleep. Damn period.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dr. Pia
We arrived at the fertility clinic fifteen minutes early. The office was taupe; everything was a shade of taupe, and the air felt as chilly as the outside. The receptionist greeted us with a kinder smile than I’d ever seen at any doctor’s office, even my office, and handed us a stack of forms to fill out. She didn’t waste any time on the financials. I knew that our visit wasn’t covered by insurance, but when she tallied up the charge to over five hundred dollars, my heart plunked into my stomach.
James didn’t seem thrilled about the cost either, but he was careful not to show it too much. We sat down in the waiting area, each of us with our own set of forms fastened to clip boards. When I got to the question, “Have you ever been pregnant before?” I paused, thinking back to when I first had sex my senior year in high school. My one scare in college turned out to be nothing. I used to be proud of the fact that I got out of high school and college without getting pregnant. I'd pat myself on the back for how smart and safe I'd been, and how lucky I'd been when I wasn't being smart and safe. But what if that luck was really a curse? An infertility curse. Maybe the reason I’d never gotten pregnant all those years was because I couldn't get pregnant.
I glanced around the room at the other women. Most were my age or older. All with the same expression, hope with a side of doubt. The two other husbands in the room seemed anxious, bouncing their knees and shifting in their chairs every couple of minutes. My husband, who finished his forms, seemed to join in the fidgeting.
“You okay?” he asked, when really I should’ve been the one asking him that question.
I wasn’t okay. I hated that we had to be in that office, answering those questions in a room full of barren couples. Were we one of them? It certainly felt like it. But instead I gritted my teeth and nodded. Then, I reread the question “Have you ever been pregnant?” and answered it honestly. No.
It was another fifteen minutes before the nurse called us in, giving us a quick explanation of what we were about to undergo. She handed James a plastic cup with a teal blue top. It was already labeled with his full name on it. It should have read, where to come today. He took the cup, holding on to the edge with his thumb and index finger like it was something dirty. I gave him a sideways glance as she walked us down the hall to James’ new love shack.
His face seemed to have lost color on the walk over. I smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t be nervous, sweetie. It’s not like this is your first rodeo.”
He glanced at the nurse and his cheeks immediately rushed with pink. “I’ll see you later,” he said and quickly disappeared behind the door.
“Have fun!” I called out.
There was no response and I smirked at the nurse. She chuckled. “You have no idea how many wives say that to their husbands,” she said, waving me to follow her.
“Yeah, but how many of them actually mean it?”
“I’m guessing none.” She brought me into an exam room and asked me to change into the paper coverings on the table. It was just like a trip to the gynecologist. I sat on the thin crinkly paper on the chair, adjusting my so-called garments, and looked at the black-and-white photographs that hung on the wall—women with large bellies and smiling faces, sleeping newborns with their tiny fingers and noses. I wondered if they were pictures of patients that had gotten pregnant with the help of the clinic, or if they were just stock photos that you could buy from a fertility specialist supply website.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my jitters. My gaze was fixed on the one photo of a baby that would resemble our child the closest. For the moment, I pretended that it was a picture of my newborn daughter with the tiniest fingernails I’d ever seen. I didn’t know why, but I started humming Baby Mine quietly to myself in poor pitch. It was the lullaby my father would sing to me when I was really, really little. Before I turned five, he was more maternal than my mother. When I had a baby, that’d be the lullaby I’d sing to her. Or him.
The door opened and my little tune came to a screeching halt. My heart leapt from my chest. Dr. Pardasani, carrying a tablet, smiled. She was dressed in her white lab coat and comfortable shoes. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and her sea-glass green eyes glistened. I knew by her name that she was of Indian decent, but
I had no idea she was actually from India until she greeted me. “Hello, how are you today?” she asked with her pretty accent.
“I'm okay,” I said, keeping my arms crossed, low on my lap.
“I'm Dr. Pardasani.” She shook my hand and I smiled half-heartedly.
“Nice to meet you.”
She rolled over a short black leather stool and took a seat next to me. “Are you feeling a little nervous today?”
Yes! “A little,” I said.
“It's okay to be a little nervous. But try not to worry. We are going to take great care of you.” She put her hand on mine and gave it an encouraging squeeze. The gesture helped ease my mind a bit. She had a spirit similar to Holly’s, but with a little more enthusiasm, and I believed in that moment that if anyone could help me, she could.
The good doctor asked me to lie down. She asked me non-pregnancy-related questions like what did I do for a living and had I read any good books lately as she pulled out her gynecological tools. I answered her questions, trying to keep my tone neutral as she opened me up with the metal speculum. I took slow, deep breaths, cringing a little, and willing my body to be perfectly fertile as she swabbed samples from my cervix.
“All done,” she said and snapped off her rubber glove. “You can sit up.”
I followed her direction and watched her type a few things on her tablet. “So, Marin, why did you decide to come see me today?”
“Because I'm on the cusp of thirty-five and my husband and I have been trying for a year and so far nothing,” I said, my voice cracking a little.
She sent over a compassionate glance. “Well, the good news is, everything looks good from my initial exam. We'll know more when the labs come back.”
“How long does that take?” I asked.
“A few days.” She smiled and I had a feeling she might be an eternal optimist too. “Now, let's get a blood sample and I'll meet you in my office with your husband, okay?”