Unholy Birth

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Yes, Kate, is she wrong?”

  “No. I guess what you say about us is true. Thank you. Let me continue looking over the paperwork,” I added, reaching for the rest of the documents.

  “Please don’t consider this in any way condescending, but I do like to explain the basics about fertility and success.”

  “Oh, do enlighten us, Lois,” Willy said. “Not being a heterosexual couple, we haven’t been overly concerned about it.”

  I stared at her and felt the heat in my own eyes.

  “What?” she cried.

  “Stop,” I merely said.

  Lois watched us and then sipped some more of her wine before putting the glass down to continue.

  “You might have had some of this in basic biology or high school health courses, but…”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I’m not arrogant enough to think I know it all.”

  “Actually, most heterosexual couples even with a well-planned intercourse have only a twenty to twenty-five percent chance of getting pregnant in any given cycle.”

  “What’s your success rate at Genitor?” I asked.

  “One in twelve, about eight percent for vaginal insemination.”

  “This can get pretty expensive then,” I said, glancing at the fee schedule.

  “You already said money is no object,” Willy said quickly, and poured herself and Dr. Matthews more of the pinot noir. “Besides, let’s be more optimistic considering Kate’s regularity.”

  “That is a plus as is her age, being under thirty. We’ll work on her fertility awareness, too.”

  “We? Aren’t you proposing to do a lot more for us than you usually do?” I asked. I had, unbeknown to Willy, made inquiries of other sperm banks and their procedures. Few gave the personal attention Dr. Matthews was giving us.

  “We intend to become the number one sperm bank in the country,” Dr. Matthews said. “Doing a little more is what will get us there.”

  “Well said,” Willy cried, and tapped her glass to Dr. Matthews’s glass.

  The way they were smiling at each other was beginning to make me uncomfortable. They were like conspirators and I was on the outside. Willy was being too carefree. After all, we were still talking about my body. There goes our perfect, stressless relationship, I thought.

  “As you know, a woman’s peak fertility occurs right before ovulation. Her egg lives for only six to twenty-four hours after ovulation. Frozen sperm makes the timing even more crucial.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “While fresh sperm can live three to five days within a woman’s body, thawed sperm lives for twenty-four hours at most.”

  “Fresh sperm lives inside a woman three to five days?” Willy asked.

  Lois nodded.

  “I knew there was a good reason to avoid men. Creepy crawler for three to five days.”

  “I’m sure women don’t feel anything, Willy,” I said.

  She shrugged.

  “Since ovulation occurs twelve to sixteen days before the first day of the next period, we have more of a crapshoot,” Lois continued, ignoring us the way a teacher might ignore two annoying students in her class.

  “Shouldn’t that be ‘sperm shoot’?” Willy asked.

  “More of a deposit than a shoot,” Dr. Matthews told her.

  “Touché,” Willy said, and they clinked glasses.

  Was it the wine or was Willy just being a horse’s ass to irritate me? Glaring at her didn’t matter.

  “We’ll watch your fertile cervical mucus,” Dr. Matthews continued, returning to her formal and professional demeanor, “chart your basic body temperature, and use an OPK, Ovulation Predictor Kit, in which a simple urine test measures the presence of LH, luteinizing hormone, the catalyst for ovulation. We do recommend inseminating two days in a row at twelve-hour intervals.”

  “Well, that sounds like we’re hedging our bet a bit, doesn’t it, Kate?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, are you signing those papers or not?” Willy asked, nodding at the table. I had the pen poised but had not signed anything.

  We had finally come down to it. The moment of truth.

  “We have some more wine to drink,” she added, and again, Dr. Matthews and she smiled as if they were old friends.

  “Before I sign, are you sure you want this as much as I do, Willy?”

  “After some deep introspection, and the fear that if my arm is twisted anymore it will simply come apart, I believe I do,” she said.

  I signed the papers.

  Dr. Matthews quickly put her copies into her briefcase, giving me the impression she was afraid we might change our minds.

  “Well, then,” she said, sipping her wine and sitting back on the sofa, “From the way you two talk about your periods, Kate, I think we could attempt it just before your next ovulation.”

  “But isn’t that’s a serious departure from normal procedure? I read that most sperm banks recommend following a client’s cycle for three months prior.”

  “Well, it’s true that most sperm banks recommend that and in general we do as well, but if you are as regular as you say you are, I don’t…”

  “You are as regular as we say you are, aren’t you, Kate?” Willy interjected. Of course, she knew.

  “I suppose so.”

  “So? Don’t you want to get this started sooner than later?” Willy pursued.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “So?”

  Willy was more interested in my being pregnant than I was and I found it annoying. It was irrational of me. I had been working so long at getting her to agree and to want it at least as much as I did and now that she was enthusiastic, very enthusiastic, I was bothered. It made no sense.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let me look at the calendar.”

  “I can tell you right now,” Willy said. “You’re nine days away from your next ovulation.” She turned to Dr. Matthews. “Please don’t ask me how I know that with such certainty, Lois,” she said. “You’ll make me blush.”

  They both laughed. I sat back and reviewed dates and time. Willy was right.

  “All right, then,” Dr. Matthews said. “We should get you to see the doctor ASAP. How about tomorrow afternoon, say about three?”

  “How do you know the doctor is available?”

  “I know her schedule,” she said. “We have other clients in the pipeline, don’t forget.”

  “She?”

  “Yes. Dr. Esther Aaron. If all goes well, we could begin in seven days. Let’s be optimistic. I’ll put the date down right now,” she said, reaching into her briefcase for her PDA. “I’ll return here with the donor sperm about eight P.M. We would inseminate again at 8 A.M. How’s that sound?”

  “You would have to drive back and forth and leave pretty early for the second insemination,” Willy commented.

  “It’s not a problem for me.”

  “So you’re definitely going to personally deliver it and supervise the insemination?” I asked.

  “If you don’t mind. Only if you don’t mind,” she emphasized.

  “Why would she mind, Lois?”

  “It’s a pretty personal event, Willy,” Dr. Matthews said.

  “Exactly,” I added.

  The two of them looked at me, both looking surprised at my vehemence.

  “I would think you’d want to do anything, have anything to ensure success, Kate,” Willy said. “Besides, Dr. Matthews is a professional. She’s seen it before, I imagine,” she added, suddenly referring to Lois as Dr. Matthews.

  “Oh, a few times,” Dr. Matthews said, smiling. “But don’t feel pressured. That would be detrimental. You need to be rested, relaxed, comfortable.”

  “Well, we have a few days. We’ll discuss it,” Willy said, looking at me.

  “Of course. I just need some heads up to plan the delivery should I not be bringing it,” Dr. Matthews said.

  Willy and she stared at each other a moment.

  “Would you excuse us a moment,
Lois?” Willy said, rising. She jerked her head toward the doorway.

  I rose and followed her out. We went into the kitchen. Willy leaned against the counter and folded her arms under her breasts tightly.

  “What’s the bug up your ass?”

  “Since when did you get so cozy with her?”

  “I’m not cozy. Why do you say that?”

  “You called her and didn’t tell me you did.”

  “Yes, I called to ask some questions on my own, and she said she was very excited for us and wanted to bring the wine.”

  “Maybe she’s not so bisexual.”

  Willy shook her head.

  “First you complain about Janet’s drooling over me and now this. You’re behaving like a woman in the throes of some kind of pregnancy depression. What’s going to happen when you look pregnant and lose your precious figure?”

  I felt the tears coming to my eyes and turned away.

  “Thanks.”

  “Look, Kate. I’m not trying to upset you. You don’t want her to do anything more? I’ll tell her thank you. Please just send the sperm airmail.”

  “I didn’t say that. It’s just…”

  “What? Happening so fast? Jesus, Kate, you’re like one of those people who are warned they should be careful what they wish for; they’re liable to get what they wish for.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m getting too emotional.”

  “You are. As I said, you’re behaving like a woman who’s already pregnant? Sure you’re not?”

  “What?”

  “Maybe this whole thing is a cover-up,” she teased.

  “You know what you can do with that idea, Willy?”

  “I used to do that. Got bored with it. If you’re sure now, we’ll go back and let her know. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Willy said.

  She smiled and then stepped forward to kiss me.

  “I just want to see you happy,” she whispered. “Then I’m happy, so it’s a selfish thing. You know, like Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It all comes out of what you want for yourself.”

  “You’re such an idiot,” I said, laughing. “But that’s what I like about you.”

  “Funny, that’s what I like about you.”

  Dr. Matthews was sitting back coolly, sipping her wine when we returned to the living room. She looked up at us, anxious, her eyes scrutinizing our faces.

  “It’s settled,” Willy said. “We’ve decided we would appreciate your being a part of the home insemination.”

  “No problem. Glad to do it.” She set her wineglass down. “Now how about a tour of your house? I haven’t gotten any farther than this room.”

  “What? Sure,” Willy said. “Kate?”

  “Yes, of course. Please. Let us show you the den, the kitchen, the bedrooms. We have two guest bedrooms, and Willy has her own gym.”

  “Sounds wonderful. I admire the view from the rear, too. I been looking through the windows here,” she said.

  “We’ll show you the pool, too,” Willy said, and we began our tour.

  When we arrived at our bedroom, Willy asked her how she liked the laboratory. Of course, she laughed.

  “All laboratories should be this comfortable. Believe me, it beats some aseptic, impersonal, cold room in a clinic. I think there’s a lot to say for home insemination.”

  “I know what you mean,” Willy said, winking at me. “Most of the nicest things that happen to you, happen to you in your own bed.”

  Dr. Matthews laughed again. It seemed nothing Willy could say would be unamusing.

  “Well, I had better get going,” she said.

  We returned to the living room so she could get her things. As we were about to say goodbye the phone rang. It was for Willy. She waved goodbye to Dr. Matthews and I escorted her to the front door.

  “This is going to go just fine for you, Kate. I have no worries about your physical, and I know you’ll be getting ideal sperm. You’re going to have a beautiful child.”

  “We are, Willy and me,” I emphasized.

  “Of course. That’s what I meant.”

  She opened the door.

  My heart was pounding, but I had to say it.

  “The last time you were here, I thought I saw someone in the car with you. Someone had been waiting for you all that time?”

  “My car? No. There was no one,” she said. “It was probably just the shadows and the light playing tricks. Besides, why would I leave someone in the car all that time?”

  “That was what made me curious.”

  “Well, there was nothing about which to be curious. Have a good night. I’ll call in the morning to confirm your doctor’s appointment. Good night,” she said, and walked to her car.

  This time when she pulled out, there was no question she was alone.

  But I didn’t believe her.

  Someone had been in that car with her the last time.

  Why would she lie?

  5.

  “AS A MATTER OF FACT,” Willy said, when I told her what Dr. Matthews had just said. “I already asked her about that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought it would only spook you. I’m sure what you saw was just a play of light and shadows, Kate.”

  I stared at her. Those were almost the exact words Dr. Matthews had used.

  “You should have told me you had asked her. You should have told me what she said,” I said and walked away.

  This wasn’t like her. We didn’t hide things from each other for any reason. Small deceptions chip away at relationships, I thought. They’re like cancer cells spreading, growing, destroying, little mouths gobbling up the goodness.

  I went outside again and sat on a lounge chair. The lights of a commercial jet making its way into Los Angeles slipped through the stars, the sound of its engines so far behind it that it seemed there was another jet right above us. I watched the light until it was gone. It was fantastic to think of people inside those lights, all of them preparing themselves for the impending landing, excited about their arrival and being greeted by family, loved ones, friends. Time and distance fell behind them with the plane’s exhaust. Those sitting at the windows and looking down probably had similar thoughts about the world below. It was just as fantastic to think of people within those tiny lights, families with their separate dramas. Maybe they were looking back at our house. What passenger in his or her wildest imaginings could come with our play on our stage?

  “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid,” Willy said, coming up softly behind me. “You’re in one of those depressing moods.”

  “Trust is more important than worrying about moods, Willy. What have I kept from you lately?”

  “All right, I’m sorry,” she said.

  She sat on the lounge, keeping her back to me.

  “This whole thing has brought more tension to this house than I can tolerate,” she said.

  “Tension? You seemed to be aboard every step of the way now. What tension?”

  She turned to me.

  “I know you’re nervous about it all. I would be and I can feel your anxiety, so don’t try to pretend it’s not there. Ironically, you’re now blaming me for not ignoring you, for being concerned and sensitive and trying to make things easier for you.”

  She fixed her eyes on mine. I couldn’t help being drawn to the strength in her face. She made me feel safe. Maybe, that was always more important than actual love. With Willy beside me, part of my life, I did feel invulnerable, protected.

  “Okay, I’m sorry I was such a femme,” I said, and she smiled.

  We kissed softly. Her hands moved along my ribs and over my breasts. I moaned and sunk lower on the lounge. While she undressed me, I kept my eyes closed like some child told to do so in preparation for a surprise. Our sex was always a surprise and never tired or rep
etitious. Every kiss, every touch seemed different, new. It was as if we each discovered something previously unexplored, whether it be a tender spot under a breast or just below a navel.

  “Too bad we don’t have semen tonight,” she whispered when I moaned with pleasure at her touch, at the way her lips drew a sensual line over my stomach, against my inner thighs. She leaned back to undress and then our two naked bodies entwined in passionate embraces, our lips bringing on orgasms that made us both gasp and cling to each other as if we were falling, only not down but up toward those stars, toward those planes and those people who looking out their windows saw the two of us floating by like two angels who had discovered how to transcend their own bodies and visit their very souls.

  There are often times when making love to the one you love is infected with some dishonesty. It doesn’t matter if you are a lesbian, gay, or heterosexual. Sometime during that act of lovemaking, you will drift off or be suddenly driven by other images and thoughts. In my case and I suspected in Willy’s this particular night, this particular time, we both, even if just for a few fleeting seconds, conjured Dr. Matthews, thought of her lips, her eyes, her breasts, and especially those shapely legs. We used her to enjoy each other even more and the enjoyment we brought to each other made it possible to forgive each other for the distraction, the mental infidelity.

  I saw this in the way Willy shifted her eyes guiltily away from mine and felt it in the way I turned from her as well. Neither of us said anything about it. It wasn’t necessary. It was as obvious as the stars that witnessed our passion and winked at each other. They knew. The heavens knew it all.

  Laughing at ourselves afterward, we both leaped into the pool. It was just a little too cool, but we didn’t complain. Later, exhausted, we lay in bed talking until both our voices drifted away like smoke and our eyes closed. Sleep rolled over us with the lightness of fog until we were engulfed in our own dreams and finally let go of each other’s hands, both feeling as safe as possible.

  Dr. Matthews called in the morning to confirm my appointment with Dr. Esther Aaron.

  “She can see you today at three. Will that work?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Here’s the address,” she said, dictating it to me. “She’s a wonderful person besides being an excellent physician. Don’t worry about a thing. You’re in good hands now, Kate.”