by Amanda Aksel
When I awoke, the sun was up and James lay next to me reading his book.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, closing the book and laying his head on the pillow next to mine.
I just shrugged. “What time is it?”
“It's almost eleven. I called Andy to let him know you wouldn't be coming in today. So you can just take it easy.”
Easy? Nothing would ever be easy again. The memory of it all came flooding back and so did the tears. James pulled me in and kissed the top of my head. I cried in his arms and wondered if I’d ever stop.
After a while, my tears seemed to dry up. James offered to make me something to eat. I let him—partly because I was hungry, and partly because I just wanted to be by myself for a few minutes. I took a few deep breaths after he left and grabbed my cell phone. Ignoring the missed calls and texts, I dialed Holly.
“Marin, everything okay?” she asked with a groggy voice.
“Did I wake you?” My voiced cracked down the middle like a broken heart.
“What's wrong?”
I couldn't speak. My chin trembled and another flood of tears tumbled down my cheeks.
“Marin, what happened?” she asked.
I sniffed back my sorrowful waterfall and took another breath. “It didn't work. I'm not pregnant.”
She was so quiet that I thought the call had dropped. But then she said, “Oh, Marin. I'm so sorry.”
“When are you coming home?” I asked, rubbing my roughed-up nose with a tissue.
“Soon. Next week.”
“I wish you were here now. I really need you.”
“I'll be back as soon as I can,” she said in a strong, assured tone. “Listen, Marin . . .”
I sniffed again. “Yeah.”
I heard her take a deep breath. “Never mind. I'll call you as soon as I’m home.”
And she did—the moment Holly returned to her apartment. I hoped that she would surprise me and show up at my doorstep, but she confessed that she was exhausted from the trip. I insisted that I needed to see her right away. When she opened the door she looked as if she had been swallowed up by a couple of oversized sweaters. Maybe sixty degrees was cold since she had spent months in a tropical climate. But I could see her face, her familiar brown eyes, and that was all I needed.
“Hey!” I said, giving her a hug.
“It's really good to see you,” she said, pushing me away, looking into my eyes.
“You too. Where's Noom?” I asked.
“He went to pick up something for us to eat. Why don't you come sit down? I need to talk to you about something.”
The ominous tone in her voice set my heart rate up to a mile a minute.
“Holly, if you're about to tell me you're moving, I'm going to have an emotional breakdown. I can't handle it.”
She looked down, chewing her lower lip.
“Oh, my God! You are moving!” Tears flooded my eyes, and for someone who was neither pregnant nor menstruating, I was emotional as hell.
“I'm not moving,” she said.
I put my hand over my chest and sighed my relief. “Don't scare me like that.”
“Sorry.”
My pulse began to slow down and I could feel my body relax some. “That's okay. So what did you want to tell me? Is it the adoption? Are you getting a baby?” A fresh tear trickled down my cheek, and I hated myself for not getting on the adoption list sooner, now that getting pregnant was clearly impossible.
“The adoption hasn't come through, but we are going to have a baby,” she said.
I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”
She pulled her sweater up and revealed a swollen belly. “I'm pregnant. Five months.”
I couldn’t believe it even though I could plainly see that she was five months pregnant. “I don't understand. How can you be five months pregnant? The doctors told you that you couldn’t get pregnant.”
“They were wrong.”
My breathing grew heavier and I was sure I would faint any second. “But, but, why are you just now telling me?”
Holly dropped her shoulders, her expression guilt stricken. “I found out right before we left. It was early and I was positive I’d miscarry and I’d have nothing to tell. But the baby is still alive. Healthy too. It might be a miracle. I wanted to wait to tell you because you've been working so hard to get pregnant. I didn't want to make things worse for you. And I really thought that by the time I got home you'd be . . .”
I lowered my face into my hands and did everything I could to catch my breath.
“Marin, are you okay?” she asked.
“No,” I said into my palms. “I'm not okay. I’m sorry. It’s just . . . this is a lot.” My tear-filled eyes met hers. Nothing about our situation was right. She shouldn’t have looked sad when she told me she was pregnant. I should’ve wanted to celebrate with her. Both of us should’ve been gabbing about our healthy pregnancies. I should’ve been pregnant too.
“I know it is and I’m so sorry, but I just couldn’t hide it from you any longer. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling after all that you’ve been through. It was hard for me to watch you even try to get pregnant last year let alone actually be pregnant. Just tell me that it’ll be okay, that this won’t destroy our friendship.” Holly took my hand, squeezing it in hers. It was terrible she even thought to say the things she did. But it was difficult in that moment to reconcile that along with how terrible I felt about being the only one of my friends who couldn’t get pregnant.
I shook my head. “It won’t.” Her pregnancy couldn’t destroy our friendship, but I wasn’t sure it would help matters. Her chin trembled as she attempted a half smile and a tear spilled down her cheek. “But I think I should go right now.” I rose to my feet and let her hand go. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded then lowered her head and sobbed. I’d never walked away from Holly when she was that upset before and I hated myself for needing to do it now. I sniffed back my tears and wiped my wet cheeks as I walked to her door.
As I turned the knob, I looked back. “Holly,” I said and she looked up. If only I could’ve smiled or offered something other than a heavy-hearted, “Congratulations.”
When I was far enough away from Holly’s building, I stopped in front of a trashcan, gripping the edges with my hands. My stomach churned and I heaved over the bin, letting out all that was inside of me until there was nothing left and I was empty.
There had been some pretty numbing times in my life, but none were as severe as that. When I returned home, James stood up the moment I dropped my eyes on the entryway table. “There you are. I was about to go looking for you. Why didn’t you answer any of my calls?”
I shook my head in a daze. “I didn’t hear them come in.”
“Holly called me. I was worried about you.” James rushed over and placed his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him, my eyes dry and tired. “Good, then I don't have to say it aloud. I'm going upstairs.” I said, dropping my oversized purse to the ground and dragging my feet to the staircase. Our bedroom was dark and I didn’t bother flipping on the light. I just kicked off my shoes and slipped under the covers.
A minute later, James’ foot hit the creaky stair and his steps drew closer and closer. He sat on the bed next to me and turned on the nightstand lamp. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I couldn’t look up at him, just stared at the denim jeans he wore. “No.”
He massaged my shoulder. “Well, I think you should. You need to let it out.” What he didn’t know was that I had let it out in a trash bin near Holly’s apartment.
I shot him a quick glance, sneering.
He let out a long sigh. “Fine, then maybe I should let it out.” My focus completely turned to him. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“What,” I muttered.
He stood up, balling his fists. “I can’t keep watching you get your heart broken over and over and over again. Every time you decide you want to start a different treatment,
in that first moment, I can’t breathe. Watching you get your hopes up and seeing them crash has become unbearable. Because getting my heart broken over all of this is hard enough. It’s too much. You keep saying we’re in this together, but I feel like I’m just the guy who gives you shots and jacks off into a cup once in a while. I spend all my time worrying about you, and you spend all your time worrying about you. I can’t shoulder it anymore. I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to be the strong, supportive man, but I’ve never felt as weak and helpless as I have this entire year. And there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t give you what you want and it kills me.”
I sat up, gripping the edge of the mattress and shook my head. “I had no idea you felt this way.”
“Because you never asked.”
I shot him a glare, furrowing my brow. “That’s not true!”
“Yes it is. The last time you asked me if I was okay was after the third IUI. Since then you just keep telling me what we need to do. Telling me about all your good feelings when I’ve just had bad ones, going along with it because I know how much this means to you.”
“How much it means to me? What? You don’t want a baby?”
“Of course I do, but I don’t want to do it like this. I’m tired of spending all of our time and resources on something we know isn’t working.” He let out another long breath. “Maybe we’re just not meant to have a baby biologically.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true. And the sooner we face the facts, the sooner we can move on and start to recover.”
That was when I realized that I didn’t want to recover. I didn’t want to let it go. I didn’t care if it took everything from me. I would never stop. Even if it meant I lost James along the way.
My face was hot and my stomach churned. I had done it again—let the thing I wanted most become more important than James. I held my belly, knowing there was no baby and nothing more to throw up. I hated myself for all of it—not supporting my friend when she needed me the most, not being a rock for my husband like he was for me, and most of all, not being pregnant. Tears flooded my eyes and I let out a cry. “You’re right. I’m a terrible person.” I covered my face with my hand, curling into myself.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is. And it’s true.” I sobbed into my hand. “You’re right, we should just give up, because after the way I’ve been acting, I don’t deserve a baby. Maybe that’s why we’re not meant to have a baby biologically. My karma is shot.”
“Look, I’m sorry I brought it up. This was clearly not the best time.”
I looked up at him, my eyes burning in the light. “Exactly. There hasn’t been a good time because I’ve been so consumed by it.”
James put his hands on my shoulders. “Then let’s get out of it. At least for now.”
My eyes drew up to his and I took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A Mantra for Hope
I told James that I needed to get out, go for a walk. He told me that he needed to get out of the house too but that he wanted to be alone. The longer I walked by myself, the more I realized that I didn’t want to be alone. So I called Keiko, the only person I knew who was capable of understanding what I was going through. When I showed up at her doorstep, she greeted me with her angelic glow and I knew I had come to the right place.
“Come in. Come in,” she said. “What's the matter?”
I was bewildered when I stumbled into her living room and sat on her couch. I ran my fingers through my tangled hair. “Everything is wrong,” I said.
“Do you want some green tea?” she asked. “Or maybe something to eat?”
I just shook my head.
She sat next to me, looking as sad as I felt. “Marin, I'm really worried about you. What happened?”
I glanced up at her. “The IVF didn’t work and I just found out that my best friend, who was told she could never have kids, is pregnant. And my husband doesn’t want to try anymore. I haven’t always been the greatest person and I think I’ve just accumulated too much bad karma. I feel so lost. Maybe I should just accept that I can’t get pregnant.”
“You know about karma?” she asked.
I dropped my gaze. “I do now.”
“I know this is so hard. It’s so hard for me too, every month and still not pregnant.” Her voice cracked and her eyes glistened with tears. “But if you want to be a mom, then you can never give up. If you give up, then the baby will never come.” Her voice was filled with a gentle compassion. I could see that she had been through all the pain I’d been through and maybe more since she had been trying for so many years.
“How do you know when it’s a lost cause?” I asked, swallowing a hard lump in my throat. “I just don’t know what to do.” I bawled, curling into my hands. Keiko rubbed the top of my shoulder. I cried for a while, unable to make any syllables come together. She sat quietly by my side like an old friend. My eyes burned and I wiped them clean the best I could. “I’m sorry for crying so much. I just didn’t know where else to go.”
Keiko wiped her wet cheek and smiled through our shared sorrow. “You came to the right place. Come on, I want to show you something.” She grabbed my hand and walked me over to a large cabinet in the room. She opened it and revealed a scroll with some kind of Asian calligraphy inscribed all over it. Was it some kind of Japanese fertility deity? She sat down on the floor in front of the cabinet and patted a spot on the carpet next to her. I hunched down, sitting on my knees.
“When I feel hopeless about my situation, any situation, I sit here and I chant nam-myoho-renge-kyo. And when I’m done, I feel so much better. I have hope again,” she said.
“Nam-what?” I asked, thinking that it seemed stranger than making vision boards with my mom, but Keiko’s sincerity kept my focus.
“Nam-myoho-renge-kyo,” she said again, slower this time. “You said something about karma. This,” she motioned to the inscribed scroll, “will help you transform your karma and become absolutely happy.”
I was a far cry from absolute happiness and was in desperate need of transforming my karma. Then something clicked. “Wait, is this like in that Tina Turner movie?” I asked.
Keiko let out a small chuckle. “Yes. You know about Tina Turner?”
I smiled. Actually smiled. Something I never thought I’d do again, or at least not for a while. “Everyone knows Tina Turner.” When I saw the iconic pop star’s movie back in the nineties, I didn’t give her chanting much thought. My family didn’t practice any particular kind of faith. Science seemed to be the answer to everything. But in my case, science had failed.
“Do you want to try chanting with me for a few minutes?” she asked.
I bit my lip and looked at her, then studied the inscribed scroll, wondering what it meant. I thought about Ms. Turner and her faith and realized that faith may have been harder for me to conceive than a baby. But I had nothing left to lose, so I nodded.
Keiko helped me pronounce the words, nam-myoho-renge-kyo, then faced the scroll and rang a bell that looked like one of those Tibetan singing bowls. She began chanting the words slowly at first, but then sped up to a rhythmic pace. I did my best to keep up and after a few minutes, the mantra seemed to flow. I had no idea what I was saying but the phrase seemed to soothe me. It had been much longer than a few minutes, but she kept chanting and I chanted with her, keeping my eyes on the inscribed scroll.
I felt the whole of my sadness and fear ball up in my throat and release with every syllable that I recited. After about twenty minutes, she rang the bell again and it was over. My head was euphoric, like a runner’s high, and I took in a few deep breaths.
Her smiling face met mine and then a new flash flood of tears appeared and I wept again in my hands. Keiko drew closer to me and put her arm over my shoulder. Somehow that moment had given me the courage to face myself and not take anything for granted. Maybe I would get pregnant. Maybe
I wouldn’t. But someday I would be a mother and I wanted James with me, raising the child together.
I sniffed back the rest of my tears. “I’m sorry I keep crying like this. I actually do feel better,” I said. “I didn't think it was possible.”
She nodded. “You have to make the impossible, possible.”
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in. “Thank you so much for being here for me tonight.”
“Of course!” she said. “Anytime.”
“I should go home,” I said, rising to my feet.
She walked me to the door. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You will definitely overcome this situation.” And I actually believed her. I thanked her again and got home as fast as I could.
When I walked in the front door almost thirty minutes later, I rushed upstairs and found James sitting on the floor, his head resting against the side of the mattress. Marvin sat next to him, just as Keiko had done for me. “Hey,” he said, frowning, and sent a quick glance my way.
“Hey.” I rushed over, plopped down in front of him and took his hand. “I owe you an apology. You’ve been so supportive of me and I haven’t been there for you. I’m sorry. I only want a baby if we can do it together.”
His expression softened into a half smile. “Thanks for saying that.”
“I don’t want to give up but I get that you need a long break from all this. Maybe I need one too. So can we just go back to normal for a while? I really don’t want to lose you.” I put my hand on his face, feeling his warm cheek and stubble against my fingers.
James looked into my eyes and shook his head slightly. “You’re not gonna lose me.” He pulled me in and I nuzzled into his chest as he held me tight. I knew I had really ended up where I belonged.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The New Marin
I knew we needed to recover, as James said. But after a week, taking a break was easier said than done. There was a temptation to look into adoption that I had to fight. I needed to find a way to get my mind off of babies, which meant that the door to the nursery was practically bolted shut.