“Of your sister dying?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Of the way she died.” He took a deep breath. “Five years ago, my sister – who was a lot like my mom if you get my meaning – had too much to drink at a college party and ended up getting pregnant. I don’t know if she wanted an abortion, but my mom convinced her to have one. For a while everything seemed okay, but then one night I went to surprise her with a pizza and . . .” his voice faltered as tears fell from his face. I squeezed his hand and waited.
He wiped the tears and continued, “I got to her room and found her in bed. An empty bottle of pills lay on her nightstand. I called the ambulance, and they rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late.” He ran a hand over his face, “When I went back to the dorm room to help pack up her stuff, I found the note she had written under her bed. She took the pills because she was so depressed from the abortion. We never even knew.”
My heart fell as I thought about my own past. I could never tell Henry the full truth now. He would hate me forever.
“My mother refused to believe she was depressed over the abortion; she even accused me of forging it, and that’s when I knew I had to get out of there. I moved out the very next day. In fact, I hadn’t seen my mother face to face until she showed up for the wedding.”
“Oh Henry, I’m so sorry. And I don’t want Raquel to make the same mistake, but what can we do?”
“We can pray,” he said, and he grabbed both of my hands. Together we prayed for Raquel, for God’s will and his wisdom, for the life of the unborn child that might be growing in her belly at the very moment, and for healing for Henry. Though our subject was heavy, both of us felt lighter after giving the worry over to God. “Now, what do you say we work on making our own baby,” he said, and I curled into him.
The Secret that Won’t go Away
“So, any word yet?” Henry asked, looking up from his plate as we ate dinner one night.
I pushed the green beans around on my plate. “It was negative again.”
He touched my hand. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s only been six months. I’m sure we’ll get pregnant soon.”
I nodded, but the old doubt resurfaced. Peter and I had gotten pregnant the first time we didn’t use protection, so why wasn’t I getting pregnant with Henry? Now, when I was finally ready for a baby. Even worse, I couldn’t understand why Raquel was pregnant and I wasn’t. She had had an abortion too and thought about a second, but thankfully Greg had convinced her to choose life. They had married, but it had been a rushed wedding before she began putting on weight. Henry and I had done it the right way, and I was remorseful of my procedure. So why was she pregnant and not me?
Henry switched the subject then, and began discussing his day. I nodded in all the right places, but my mind was a million miles away.
As I lay in bed that night, I tried reading a book, but the words blurred together as my vision filled with tears. Henry was being so supportive, but what if he wanted a divorce since we couldn’t have kids? Here we had bought this huge house for kids, and we couldn’t have any to fill it. I folded the book on my lap and closed my eyes.
“Lord,” I whispered, “I know you probably don’t listen to prayers from people like me, but please help us to have kids, for Henry’s sake. I promise this time I won’t squander the life you give.”
I had prayed the same prayer nightly for the last few months, but every month the answer had been the same: a negative pregnancy test. As more tears fell down my cheek, I put the book away. There was no way I’d be able to read tonight. I clicked off the light on the bedside, thankful that Henry was still watching news in the other room, and darkness descended.
The creak of the bed woke me some time later. I rolled over, expecting it to be Henry coming to bed, but a toddler in blue train pajamas bounced on Henry’s side of the bed.
“Mama!” Pure joy lit up his face, and he toddled across the bed to me. My throat swelled as I blinked back the tears threatening to flow again.
“Baby,” I reached out to him. The baby jumped into my arms, and I squeezed the boy tightly. The fresh clean scent of soap radiated from him. He put both of his chubby little hands on my face and peered into my eyes.
“Mama, I miss you.”
The tears broke the dam, spilling down my cheeks. “Oh, baby, I miss you too.”
He laid his little head on my chest, but it was the three words that broke my heart the most. I squeezed him even tighter and cried into his dark hair.
“I’m so sorry,” I said over and over.
“Sandra, wake up.” I opened my eyes to see Henry above me, hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong, Sandra?” He wiped a tear from my cheek, and I bit my lip, deciding how much to tell him.
Pushing myself into a sitting position, I asked hesitantly, “Do you remember when I told you I lost a baby?”
He nodded.
“Well, I have dreams of the baby sometimes. This time the baby was almost four, and he told me he missed me. I’m sorry if I woke you.” And I’m sorry I can’t tell you the whole truth.
“It’s okay. I have dreams like that about my sister sometimes.”
I nodded, “I can understand that. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my dreams. They haven’t come recently, and I thought they were over, but I guess not.”
“Losing a child is hard.”
I bit my lip. He had no idea. I lay back down and curled into Henry, but sleep didn’t return for a long time.
Three months later, I was at the hospital holding Raquel’s beautiful baby girl, Alyssa. Dark brown hair covered her head just like her mother’s. She was perfect. My heart ached as I held her. I so wanted a child of my own.
“You were right,” Raquel said when it was just her and I in the room.
I glanced up from Alyssa’s face, “Right about what?”
“How wrong we were. The moment I saw the first ultrasound I knew. She was a living being even then, and then I felt her move,” she broke down in tears. “I’ve felt so guilty for months.”
Unsure of what to do, I rose from the chair and, cradling Alyssa in one hand, I placed another on Raquel’s arm.
“How did I not know? Why didn’t we have ultrasounds then? Maybe it would have stopped me.”
I sighed, “I don’t know, I didn’t get the feeling that they cared about me when I was there. Maybe it’s just about the money to them. If it were really about choice, I would think they would want to give us all the options.”
“How do I go on?” she cried. “How do I forgive myself?”
I squeezed her arm, “I don’t have all those answers, but I know that you have to try. You have a beautiful daughter now, and she needs you. You can’t just leave her.”
Raquel sniffled. “I know. I would never do anything to hurt her, but I can’t stop thinking about the other baby now.”
“I understand. That’s how it’s been for me from the beginning, but hopefully you can move on now. We can’t even get pregnant, and I’m starting to think something’s wrong.” It was the first time I had voiced my suspicion aloud, and ice trickled through my veins at the thought.
Raquel gasped, and her eyes widened, “Oh, Sandra, I’m so sorry, and here I was going on. Do you know for sure?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ve been too scared to check. I’m going to give it a little longer. I keep hoping it’s just stress or something else, but I’m so afraid.” Tears spilled down my cheeks.
Raquel squeezed my arm back, and together we cried over our past mistakes.
Six months after that, I sat on the floor of my living room playing with Alyssa. Raquel sat nearby reading my Bible. After our discussion in the hospital, she had started coming to church with us, and like myself, she had found comfort in the words of God. Unlike myself, she seemed to have been able to forgive herself and move on, not that she still didn’t have bad days where she cried for the baby she had lost, but she seemed more like Henry, more complete. I wondered if I couldn’t get there becau
se I couldn’t get pregnant. Would I be able to forgive myself more if I had a new life to look after?
Alyssa cooed, and I smiled down at her. Raquel had asked me to be her godmother, and I had gladly accepted, but even all the time I spent with her couldn’t take away the desire to have my own child.
“You know what’s odd?” Raquel spoke up from the couch. “I can’t actually find anything about abortion in the Bible. Why do you think God didn’t put a specific commandment in there? Do you think he didn’t know how far we would fall?”
“I don’t know about that. I’ve heard people at the church say that God knows everything we will ever do, so I guess he would have had to see this coming. And there is a commandment about killing: Thou Shall Not Kill, but I think more importantly, and what people forget, is that God believes life begins at conception. There are many verses that talk about women being “with child” and God breathing life into their wombs.
“I’ve heard a lot of times that Jesus spoke in parables to make sure those who read them really wanted to know, and I think some of the other big questions are like that too. God didn’t want someone to just be able to open the Bible and pick out a specific verse; he wanted us to gain knowledge from reading and letting the Holy Spirit talk to us.”
Raquel regarded me with wide eyes.
“What?” I asked, shrugging. “I listen when they speak. Just because I have a hard time believing God could forgive me doesn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You know he will forgive you if you ask,” Raquel said quietly. “He forgave me, and you are no guiltier.”
“What if I ask, and I still can’t get pregnant?” I asked. “What will I do then?”
Raquel sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Here we were, two people who didn’t really understand God or his word completely, trying to help each other and failing miserably.
Alyssa took that moment to move forward just an inch on the carpet, and the discussion was forgotten. “You did it,” I scooped her up, planting a kiss on her delicate porcelain cheek. She smiled in return and babbled at me. As I hugged her close, I relished the smell of baby lotion and milk. She slapped her hands on my face, and my mind wandered back to the last dream of the boy touching my face in the same way. The dreams had been surprisingly absent, and I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
The front door opened, and Henry entered laden with bags. I handed Alyssa to Raquel and hurried to see if he needed help.
“What is all this?” I smiled as he set down the bags.
“Well, I thought maybe we could use some positive vibes, so I bought paint, and I’m going to paint the nursery. Maybe if we get it ready, the baby will come.”
Hope glistened in his eyes, and a stone fell in my stomach, but I pasted on a smile for his benefit. “That is awesome. Do you want some help?”
“No, I’ve got it. Hi, Raquel.” He planted a kiss on my cheek and then took a bag in each hand up the stairs.
“You have to get checked,” Raquel whispered as I sat beside her on the couch.
I dropped my head in my hands, “I know, but I’m so scared.”
I sat in the doctor’s office biting my nail. After nearly two years of trying, Raquel had finally convinced me to at least get checked out. When the exam ended, the doctor had showed me to her office while she went to view the tests and gather the paperwork. As terrible as the thought was, I hoped it was a problem on Henry’s side. It would be awful having to tell him, but we could look at other options, but if it was my fault . . . what would I tell him?
The door opened, and Dr. Warren entered with paperwork in her hand. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her horn-rimmed glasses sat on her nose, but it was the expression on her face that enlarged the lump of fear in my stomach. Normally a pleasant serene woman, the serious expression appeared out of place on her face. Dr. Warren sat at her mahogany desk across from me and pushed her small grey glasses up her nose. She cleared her throat and clasped her hands. Her eyes still focused on the papers on her desk.
She shuffled some of them around before looking up at me. “Um, I have to ask you, Sandra. You said in your history that you lost a child; was that a natural loss?”
My blood ran cold, and my throat tightened. I dropped my eyes to my lap. “What . . . what do you mean?”
When I peeked up, steely gray eyes met my gaze. “I mean that you have scarring in your uterus as if you had a pregnancy terminated. Did you have a pregnancy terminated?”
The lump clawed its way up my stomach and lodged in my throat. “I did,” I whispered. “Five years ago. Is it bad?”
The gray eyes softened, and Dr. Warren sighed, “I’m sorry, Sandra, the scarring is so bad that you’ll never be able to have children again.”
The world grew silent around me, and my hands clenched into balls in my lap. “No, there must be something we can do,” I shook my head, willing her to be wrong.
“There isn’t. The damage is too extensive. I’m sorry.”
“But . . . but they told me it was safe. It was supposed to be easy.” I tried to grapple with the knowledge, but my brain refused to accept the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth.
“I’m afraid there is a risk with any surgery.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Are you saying they never went over any risks with you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t remember any.”
“Well, that is unfortunate. They should have at least informed you of all the risks. You might be able to take some legal action if you can prove it. Take as long as you need, and again I’m really sorry, Sandra.” Dr. Warren stood and picked up the papers. She paused for a minute, as if unsure if she should say more, but finally she exited the room.
I stared at my hands. What was I going to tell Henry? He’d be devastated. He had made no secret of the fact that he wanted a big family. He had even painted two of the rooms, one pink and one blue, so we’d be prepared either way. Worse yet, I’d have to tell him about the abortion.
Embarrassment compounded on the grief, and my long forgotten loathing of Peter and myself bubbled back to the surface. Why had I ever let him convince me to have an abortion? It had not only ruined our relationship, but now my chance to have children, and he was probably married to Sheila by now with kids of his own. The anger boiled inside of me, and I grabbed my purse and stalked out of the office.
As I drove home, the anger turned to despair as I practiced ways to tell Henry the bad news. Nothing sounded right. The white picket fence came into view, and sweat broke out on my palms. What was I going to do? I pulled into the driveway and took a deep calming breath. I’d just wait until the time was right. That would be the best way. Thankfully Henry was still at work, and I hadn’t told him about the appointment, so I wouldn’t have to tell him right away.
I set my purse down and wandered into the living room. The wedding picture of us called to me from the coffee table. I picked it up and touched Henry’s face. Happiness shone on both of our faces. Could we continue that happiness now that we couldn’t have kids? Would Henry forgive me and look at adoption? Or would he want to leave me as he’d wanted to leave his mother when she convinced his sister to have one?
At five-thirty, Henry’s key sounded in the lock. “Sandra,” he hollered.
I put the picture frame down and met him in the front entrance. “What is it?” I asked, hoping my face wouldn’t give me away.
“I just wrote a huge policy. We should go celebrate. Let’s go out to dinner.” He picked me up and twirled me around.
His enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself smiling in spite of my news. “Okay, let me go change.”
“Yes, something special. Let’s go somewhere nice.”
I headed into the bedroom and picked out a nice black dress. Henry entered behind me and changed his shirt, adding a tie. Within thirty minutes, we were both ready and locking the door behind us.
Henry drove to an upscale steak restaurant, and after a
short wait, we were seated at a table near the back. The dimmed lights created a romantic glow. I nibbled on a slice of bread as Henry regaled his day. If only I had good news to share with him as well; instead I had the ball of lies roiling around in my stomach. I took a drink of water, but it did nothing to douse the acidic flame churning inside.
The waiter came, took our order, and left. Henry continued to share the details of his policy, and I tried to listen and nod in all the right places. Dinner came, and I forced the food into my mouth, even though my appetite had disappeared as the churning grew. Henry chatted on between his bites, and thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice my lack of conversation. He even ordered dessert, and we shared a warm chocolate brownie topped with ice cream. Then the check came, Henry paid, and we arose from the table.
Fall was approaching, and the air held just a bit of chill as we exited the restaurant. Henry wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we walked to the car, and the guilt grew. As he opened my door, I thought for just a second that maybe we could just go on like this or adopt. Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe I could just never tell him. Henry started the car and turned on the heater. The warm air conflicted with the icy turmoil inside me, and beads of sweat broke out on my forehead
“This policy will pay for college for the kids, I think,” he said pulling onto the street. “And maybe we can look into in vitro fertilization. I know it’s expensive and still relatively new, but there must be some reason we aren’t getting pregnant, and maybe that can help. If I can just write a few more policies like the one today, then we could probably afford it...”
My guilt grew as he continued talking.
“. . . Maybe they’ll let us do a payment plan. Then we could really look into it.”
And finally it bubbled over, and I burst out, “I can’t have kids.”
He turned to look at me, “What do you mean you can’t have kids? I thought you said you lost a child five years ago. You got pregnant then; why couldn’t you get pregnant now?”
Where It All Began Page 13