by Holly Rayner
SIX
A few days passed before Omar was able to find the time for us to take the next step in our adventure together. There seemed to be no end to his royal duties, and he had to deal with the fallout of his mother’s decree, both to the press and the subjects of his country. He hadn’t spoken with his brother since the disastrous birthday dinner, but all the darkness and anger of that night seemed to have faded completely from his mind. Despite dealing with the headache of the work, Omar was in great spirits.
Knowing I had helped make him so happy only made me happier, even if that joy came with a lot of fear attached.
It was late afternoon when Omar called me into the palace’s medical ward, where he had gathered the country’s top OB/GYN physicians for a consultation regarding the little bundle of royal joy we were trying to cook. Since I wasn’t Omar’s queen, the only option left to us was artificial insemination.
Even as a doctor, I was a little nervous about the procedure. It wasn’t something I had ever imagined myself doing, and there was a type of coldness about it I didn’t appreciate. I knew that any number of complications and surprises could happen when doctors tried to replicate the natural reproductive system, but it was what Omar needed, and so I would do it for him.
Being the patient was another thing I wasn’t used to. As if sensing my nervousness, Omar took my hand and helped me gently up onto the examination table. After a few words of encouragement, he politely left the room as one of the doctors sat down to examine me. Once I was dressed, Omar re-joined us so the doctors could explain what would happen next.
“Dr. Green is in perfect reproductive health,” beamed Dr. Issa, a warm, middle-aged woman who was born and raised in Al-Thakri. Omar smiled at me as the doctor continued. “For your needs, we recommend the intrauterine insemination procedure. Assuming your blood tests and physical exams come back with good news, we will then do an analysis of His Highness’ sperm. If he is as healthy as you are, Dr. Green, we won’t need to worry about administering any fertility drugs to assist with the process. You are both at ripe reproductive age.”
Omar and I exchanged a somewhat awkward but excited smile. I had the urge to reach over and grab his hand, but suppressed it. The need to try and make this more comfortable for us both was overwhelming.
“I will need you to track your ovulation cycles,” the doctor said to me. “That way, we may be able to double the insemination procedure each cycle and hopefully get you pregnant much faster. One His Highness’ sample is processed, we will apply the sperm inside you using a catheter and syringe, before using a cervical cap to ensure it remains in place. Your Highness,” she continued, turning to Omar. “We recommend that you be here with Dr. Green during the procedure. She will need to be at her most relaxed, and your presence should help with that.”
Omar looked to me, as if looking for confirmation of what the doctor was saying, and I smiled with a gentle nod.
“That would be great,” I agreed. “Doing this alone would be much harder.”
“You’re not alone,” said Omar, before looking back at Dr. Issa. “Of course I’ll be here—whenever Carrie needs me to be.”
“Are you sure that’s do-able?” I asked him quietly. “I mean, your royal duties… you’re not going to be able to just drop everything for this. If you need me to handle it alone, I can do that. I’ve been on my own in much more stressful situations.”
Omar gave me a sly smile that made my stomach flutter. “This is the most important thing I’ve ever done—and it is my country’s future. Let someone try to stop me from being here for every minute of it.”
I could feel my cheeks flushing and looked away before Omar could notice.
“Do I need to make any lifestyle changes?” I asked the doctors.
“It never hurts to start treating your body better—preparing the den for the cubs, so to speak,” smiled the elderly male doctor to the left. “If you smoke, it’s essential that you quit now. Cutting back on alcohol, making sure you’re exercising and getting a balanced diet; all of these things will help your overall health as well as your chances of conceiving.”
“I’ll pass on orders to the kitchen staff,” nodded Omar. “I’ll have my nutritionist assist with Carrie’s meals. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“And I’ll start visiting the palace gym more often,” I added. “Lord knows I pass by it enough; I guess it’s time to start actually going inside.”
The doctors laughed at that.
“Conceiving a child isn’t always easy,” said the elderly doctor. “Don’t be hard on yourself if the process takes some time. The human body is a delicate thing, and each individual has her own needs. There isn’t a magic solution to anything. Just be patient and calm.”
Omar rubbed his hair, a gesture I was realizing came whenever he got a little nervous. “You see… patience is not necessarily a virtue we have time for, doctors. The heir needs to be born before my brother can produce one.”
The doctors exchanged concerned glances.
“Ah yes,” said the elderly doctor. “We did hear about the Queen Regent’s decree.” He shrugged a little helplessly. “We’ll certainly do everything we can to make this process a speedy one, but we aren’t gods. Just make sure you follow our directions closely, and come to us if there is any change that concerns you, even if it seems fickle.”
“I will,” I agreed with a nod. “Having you all so close is a big help.”
“Indeed, and one of us is on duty twenty-four seven,” he said.
Omar looked at me intently. Then, without warning, he reached over and clasped one of my hands in his. The sensation was warm and loving.
“Thank you so much for doing this for me, Carrie,” he said with wet eyes. “Our baby is going to be a wonderful ruler.”
Blushing slightly, I squeezed his hand back. “Yes, he will.”