by Amanda Aksel
I nodded, thankful that it was time for me to get out of this paper outfit. Before she left the room, she peeked her head around the curtain and said, “It's nice to meet you, Marin.”
In the nurse lab, the woman who escorted me to the exam room drew a couple small tubes of blood. At least I thought that's what she did. I could never watch. Blood made me feel faint and queasy, which was why I never made it through medical school.
When I arrived at Dr. Pardasani's cracked open office door, James was already sitting there talking with her. I touched his shoulder as I sat in the chair next to him and he took my hand. It was weird being in the doctor's office with him. It felt like we were bracing ourselves for bad news, when really we were both new patients. And we couldn’t know anything yet.
Dr. Pardasani leaned forward, resting her forearms on her desk, and explained the odds of conceiving naturally, the statistics of my new age bracket, thirty-five to thirty-nine, and that we should not be too concerned until there was something to be concerned about. But for some reason, all I wanted to know was what to be concerned about. It had to be something. Why else had we not conceived after a year? I tried to think back on my patients who’d struggled with this and their medical conditions.
I raised my hand like a student in the front row. “Is it possible that I have endometriosis or PCOS and I don't even know it? Could that be the reason?”
Her expression changed to one I had given many times—I thought you were going to be a cool patient, but you’re not. “Those conditions are very different.”
“But it's possible, right?” I didn’t care if I wasn’t the cool patient as long as I was the pregnant patient.
“Marin,” she said instead of Mrs. Johns-Young, like she was speaking to me woman to woman. “When you think of the words it's possible, I want you to relate them only to you getting pregnant. I will call you when we get the labs back and you can come back to the office to discuss the results.”
I was at the edge of my seat. “Discuss the results? It sounds like you already know there's something to discuss, something bad.”
“Marin,” James said, but he really meant shush.
Dr. Pardasani smiled warmly, doing her best to diffuse my anxiety. I knew that look. I gave that look for a living and I was immune to its powers. “A baby is made when the environment inside your body is good. Unnecessary stress and worry don't create a good environment. So please, try your best to be happy and we'll work on getting you pregnant, all right?”
Happy? How can I be happy when I don't even know if I can have a baby or not. How can I relax until I know exactly what's going on? What kind of advice was this?
She laughed a little. “I know you must be thinking that trying to be happy is futile, right? But remember, Marin. You're a counselor. You just told me about the positive psychology book you're reading. You're a doctor too, so I know that you understand scientifically how harmful it is to choose negative, worrisome thoughts instead of positive ones. I know you can do it.”
She was right. I needed to stay cool. Why was it that I was an eternal optimist until something really challenging happened, then all of the sudden I’d become the eternal, crazy pessimist? How could I preach learned optimism to my patients and behind closed doors practice the opposite? What kind of therapist was I? Maybe the kind that needed to go back to therapy. Guess it was back to emotional boot camp with Andy.
“You're right,” I said, knowing she was, but also knowing it was going to be difficult to enact her recommendation. “Thank you, Dr. Pardasani.”
She stood up, extending her hand. “Please, call me Dr. Pia. I'll see you both soon.”
I took her hand. “Great! You’ll call us as soon as you know, right?”
“Marin,” James said out of the side of his mouth.
I sent Dr. Pia a shameful glance. “Sorry.”
As we walked out of her office, I leaned into James. “How did it go with the cup?” I asked under my breath.
“Fine,” he said.
“Just like riding a bike, huh?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nanny’s on the Menu
It had been two days since our visit and not a peep from Dr. Pia’s office. Since it was Saturday, I had the feeling that we wouldn’t get a call until at least Monday or Tuesday. I had to do something to occupy my time, or rather my mind. I called my girls to meet me for lunch at one of our favorite spots near Holly's place. It would be the first time I’d seen both of them since the wedding. The sun shined overhead, warming my face and the city to a nice fifty-five degrees.
I was anxious to get out of the house so I arrived almost ten minutes early. Holly wasn't far behind, striding in wearing her wide-leg hemp pants, oversized chimney-neck hoodie, and newsboy cap. She greeted me with a hug and kisses on the cheek before sitting down across from me.
“Well, hello, Mrs.,” I said in a playful way.
She blushed a little and grabbed her menu, immediately hiding behind it. “Oh, my gosh. I'm so hungry. Do you already know what you want?”
“What, all that newlywed sex worked up your appetite?” I bounced my eyebrows suggestively.
She smirked, keeping her eyes on her menu.
“Oh, there's Telly!” I said. She walked in the tiny restaurant wearing a pair of tight black leather pants, stilettos, and a low-cut top, her dark hair in big barrel curls. She pushed Leo in a sleek, high-end stroller. The little cutie seemed to get bigger each time I saw him. He had Telly's dark hair and devilish grin and Will's hazel eyes and button nose. One of those kids you know will be a heartbreaker in high school.
“Hey, ladies.” She flashed her perfect white teeth, unloading her black diaper bag, which looked more like a designer tote, and removing Leo's little coat, also of designer fashion.
“Hey there, kiddo,” I said, tickling his belly with the tips of my fingers. He gave me a gummed-mouth smile.
The server arrived immediately when Telly's Brazilian-looking butt hit the seat, offering to get our orders and booster chair for the baby. He took our menus and Holly sank into the booth, seeming relieved that at least the order was in.
“How's married life?” Telly asked her.
Holly gazed out the window, watching the hipster pedestrians pass by. “Same as before.”
Telly shot me a look. “See, now if they breakup she has to hire me.”
I gave her a wide-eyed, hush-your-mouth look and she just shrugged. Holly completely ignored her.
“So what's all this about you guys possibly living in Thailand half of the year?” I asked.
Holly sat up and took a sip of water. “It's just something we're thinking about. I don't know why everyone got all freaked out at breakfast.”
“I didn't get freaked out,” Telly said, begging for a little credit.
Holly forced a smile. “And I appreciate that. But so much for everyone else's support.”
I reached my hand for hers. “I support you, Holly. I was just surprised. We've lived near each other our whole lives. It would be weird for you to be gone half the year.”
“Let's not talk about it until it's a real thing, okay?” she asked.
I threw my hands up in surrender. “Okay.”
“Any word from the doctor?” Holly asked.
I rolled my eyes, sighing loudly. “Not yet and it's driving me crazy. I keep thinking about all the possibilities. Of something being seriously wrong. I mean, what if I can't have a baby?”
Holly flinched a little. After all, she was diagnosed with infertility as a teenager. I felt a tinge of guilt at my outburst. Her diagnosis never seemed to bother her much, but I wondered if that would change since she was married. “There are other ways to start a family. Maybe Telly can be your surrogate.”
Telly and I looked at one another, each of us considering the idea for a moment. “I wouldn't do it for anyone else,” she said.
I gazed at my sweet friend fondly. “I love that you would do that for me, but I'd never ask you to.”
“Good, because being pregnant sucks. I don't want any more kids. I should've had them tie my tubes when Leo was born, but I was full of new-mother hormones that I actually thought I might do it again. That's the other thing, pregnancy makes you crazy.” Telly made the same face she did when dismissing some weirdo she dated once.
“Actually, Noom and I have been talking about adopting from Africa,” Holly said, with her eyes down like she was telling us about her plans to get a new sofa. No big deal.
“Oh, yeah?” I smiled. It was true, first came love, then came marriage, then came the baby blah, blah, blah. I was excited at the prospect of Holly wanting to become a mother too. And adopting was a wonderful idea. Then it occurred to me that she might actually have a successful African adoption before I got pregnant. Then I'd be the only one of my best friends without a baby. And I was the only one of my friends who actually grew up wanting children. What was up with that?
“Yeah, it could take years, so we’re thinking about getting on the list soon.”
I tugged on my lip. Maybe I should get on the list just in case. Maybe I could adopt a little girl from China and my mom could teach us Mandarin. My mind wandered to the three of us speaking the foreign language together but longing for the little girl to come from James and me. I shook my head.
“That's really cool, Holly.” Telly smiled as she opened a little plastic container of Cheerios.
“That's a really big decision. Are you sure that's what you want to do?” I asked.
“Yeah, I mean it's the next natural step in life. Pretty soon you'll have a baby and Telly's already a mom and it's been great for her. I don't want to miss out on being a mother too.”
I couldn't help but tear up a little at her words. The always-hopeful Holly believed that I would have a baby soon and she wanted to be a mom too. It was so far from where she was just five years ago. Back then she had no desire to be in a relationship, much less married, and a baby was even further from her radar. And Telly, well, I’d always imagined she'd be the eternal bachelorette, much like my buddy Andy.
“Well get ready because it's a crazy ride,” Telly warned.
“How's the nanny search?” I asked.
Telly carefully arranged the cereal on Leo’s little tray. “I was actually just about to bring that up. It's a lot harder than I thought. I think I found one, but I’m not sure. I need your opinion so I asked her to stop by lunch so you two could meet her.”
My eyes shot open. “What? Today?”
“Yes, I can't decide and I can always decide. I need your opinion,” she whined, looking like she was having a mini-crisis.
Holly and I shifted glances at each other. “When’s she going to be here?”
“About twenty minutes.”
Our food arrived just then, and Holly and I dove right in. Telly took turns feeding herself and feeding Leo. He made faces at the different foods, gurgling his mouth and spitting things out when he found them unsatisfactory. Or he was just bored. The floor below him was covered in Cheerios and pieces of Telly's lunch.
It wasn't long before Telly’s nanny candidate arrived. She wore a Forty-Niners cap, loose jeans, and a basic T-shirt. If it wasn't for the lumps on her chest, she could easily be mistaken for a man.
“Sam, over here!” Telly waved her over.
She grinned and immediately took Leo's little hand. “What's up, little man,” she said before looking at Holly and me. “My name's Samantha, but you can call me Sam.”
“Nice to meet you. Please, sit down,” I said, scooting over so she could sit next to me in the booth. Instead, Sam grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and squeezed in next to us, leaning forward on her knees. She definitely wasn't what I was expecting of a nanny. I imagined a young woman, maybe from another country, or an old woman, or even a young guy. Mannies were pretty popular now and not the worst idea for a young boy who only saw his father part time. But Sam must have had something to inspire Telly to bring her to lunch.
Telly called the waiter over to get Sam’s order, and after a few minutes of chitchat, Telly asked her to share a little about herself. Holly and I shot knowing glances at each other. We wanted lunch, not an interview.
“Sure, I'm the oldest of four,” Sam began, “so I have a lot of experience helping my mom with my siblings. I have a degree in early childhood development, and worked with a family with two children for the last six years and loved it.”
“Why aren't you still working with them?” I asked.
“They moved to Germany and I didn't want to live in another country.”
“No football in Germany, huh?” I said, pointing at her hat.
She smiled. “Not the good kind.”
Leo started to fuss, reaching for his mom to pull him from the restrains of the wooden high chair. Telly tried to sit him on her lap, but he wiggled around, trying to break free.
“Here, let me take him.” Sam stood and reached for Leo and Telly handed over her ornery son easily. “Come here, little fussy man,” Sam said in a sweet tone. She held him in her arms and walked him around the restaurant, showing him the different pictures on the walls. He looked in every direction she pointed. The three of us watched Sam and Leo walk around the tables.
“She seems great!” Holly said.
“Yeah,” I chimed in.
“I think so too; I guess I was put off by her lack of feminineness. Is that terrible? But Leo likes her and her references were good.”
“No, I thought that for a second too, but you don't have to be girly to be a caretaker. Look at the manny movement,” I said.
“I considered that too, but knowing me I'd end up sleeping with him,” she said, almost annoyed by her own admission.
“You wouldn't do that!” I said.
Holly raised her brows as if to say that Telly sleeps with everyone.
“I dunno about that. I haven't had sex in a long time.” She drew out the word long. “If there's a cute guy who takes care of my son, my legs will just spread wide open. I know it. It might not even matter if he's cute. That's how horny I am.”
“How long has it been?” Holly asked. I was sure both of us were wondering if Telly had set some kind of new record for herself.
Telly's eyes grew wide. “Two. Months.”
“That's not that long . . .” Holly muttered in a low tone. Holly and I had definitely had dry spells that lasted much longer than two months. Come to think of it, Holly didn't have sex for a couple of years before she met Noom. She was the kind of girl who only slept with men when she was in love or at least really, really serious.
“Maybe not for you, but for me it's like a lifetime,” Telly said between bites of her food.
“Don't you have a little black book or something? A fuck buddy you could call?” I asked.
She looked at me with an offended glare as if I’d called her ugly. “Of course I do. The thing is, I feel weird about doing it now, since I became a mother. First of all, my tits are not what they used to be, which was fine when I was with Will and fucking him. He's the bastard that did it to me.”
“I'm sure your . . . tits,” Holly started, “are very nice. They look nice in your blouse.”
“Yeah, because you can't see my nipples. I used to have the nicest nipples like two little quarters on the tips of my boobs. But now they're twice the size. You'll know what I mean soon.” Telly looked at me, then looked at Holly. “Adopting is smart, Holly. No need to sacrifice your hot body. I bet you have great nipples.”
“Why don't you just sleep with Will?” I asked, rooting as the captain of Team Will.
Telly sneered. “You're only saying that because you want us to get back together and get married and be miserable like you two.”
“Hey, we're not miserable!” I yelled.
“Not yet, just wait. And I'm not doing either of your divorces pro-bono because I told you so.”
I rolled my eyes and Holly raised her voice. “Telly!”
Telly slouched down, watching her kid and
her new nanny. “Sorry, I just miss sex. This is probably the only time in our entire lives that you two have been getting laid more than me. How did we get here?”
Holly and I remained silent for a moment. The three of us were in our mid-thirties, in a new place in our lives, each of us ready for the journey ahead. Well, maybe not so much Telly. I could tell by the look on her face that she missed her old, free-spirited life.
CHAPTER NINE
Good News? Bad News?
Before I could switch on my computer at the office on Monday morning, my cellphone rang. The phone number was similar to the clinic’s. My hands shook as I answered the call.
“Marin, I have your results,” Dr. Pia said. “When can you and James come back to the office so I can discuss them with you?” Her tone was uber-neutral, not a hint of good or bad. I considered myself an expert at reading between the lines, but she left nothing to decipher.
“Anytime,” I said a little too eagerly, because what I really meant to say was right now!
“Great, I have an opening at four o'clock this afternoon.” It sounded like she was smiling, but what kind of smile? A happy smile or a pity smile?
“We'll be there,” I said. The truth was I'd have to cancel an appointment with one of my patients and had no idea what James' schedule was, but I didn't care. I wanted all the facts as soon as possible. “So . . . how does everything look?”
She let out a small chuckle. “Please don't worry, Marin. I will tell you everything this afternoon. Try to relax, remember?”
“Yes, but—”
“I will see you at four o'clock. Take care!” The line clicked before I could say another word and I contemplated calling her right back. She told me not to worry, but now I was even more worried than ever. I sat back in my chair, replaying the conversation in my head. She sounded cheerful and even laughed a little. That had to be a good sign? Or was that a bad sign because she wanted to soften the blow? Maybe she always sounded that way and has no emotional fluctuation in her voice. My desk phone rang and I jolted forward, my heartbeat faster than normal.