Monday, March 24, 2014
“Babe?”
“Mmm.”
“Tessa, wake up.”
“Mmm, I’m awake. See?” I raised an arm in the air for a brief moment before dropping it down on the soft blankets covering me. I’m sure it was quite convincing, despite my sealed-shut eyes.
“I’ve got an anniversary gift for you.” His voice was teasing, tempting.
I decided I could open my eyes for a present.
“What is it?” I pushed up on my elbows to find my husband, Kyle, sitting on the edge of the bed, freshly showered and fully dressed. I yawned and wiped the sand from my eyes. His brown hair was darker when wet, his green eyes excitedly staring me down. I’d never understand how he had this much energy in the morning when I could easily roll over and go back to sleep.
“Here, open it.” Kyle handed me a rectangular object, clumsily covered in red wrapping paper. It looked as if he’d smothered the gift in glue, then tossed it into a pile of gift wrap, hoping something would stick. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure there was a gift inside or if it was just a wad of paper—knowing Kyle and his pranks, it could be either.
I grinned, sitting up fully and crossing my legs under the blanket. Placing the present in my lap, I not so delicately ripped it open.
Kyle leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Happy anniversary, babe.”
I tore off the last of the wrapping and looked down at a beautiful black leather-bound journal. Immediately lifting it to my nose, I took a big whiff of the pages. Mmm—paper. Nothing smells better than freshly printed paper, whether it’s books or pages ready to be filled with words. I weighed the gift in my hand and ran two fingers over the soft surface. Writing by hand is one of life’s great treasures and I was already overflowing with things I wanted to share between its binding.
I looked at him, my brows raised and a hesitant smile pulling at my lips. “Is this for my book?”
He nodded, pride shining in the hidden spaces behind his eyes that only I knew existed. “Yep, you’ve been talking about it for years, and I know how you hate computers.”
“Computers are one click away from ending humanity,” I quipped, still barely believing how lucky I was to have a husband so supportive of my dream to become a writer. He knew me—my soul, my very being. I pushed away from the mirror in my heart that made me stare at how inadequate I was compared to him.
Kyle laughed. “You sound like your dad.”
“I’ve been called worse,” I said with a forced chuckle, then lifted up the journal. “Is this your hint for me to start writing my book?”
“I thought with today being the doctor’s appointment, you could start keeping a record of the entire fertility treatment process, the pregnancy, and everything that goes along with it. When our kid is older, he can read about how hard we worked to bring him into the world.”
“Or her,” I reminded him.
Kyle tossed me a wicked grin. “As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all that matters.”
I shook my head, grinning as my defenses lowered inch by inch. I knew he wanted a son. Most men want a son. I couldn’t blame him for that, but I also knew he’d love a daughter, too. He was going to be an amazing father, and there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to be able to give this dream to him—and to me.
Whether or not I’d be a great mom was another question. Kyle didn’t know I thought about that but I did. All the time. I wanted to be a mother more than anything, but that didn’t mean the concept wasn’t terrifying to me. I have to set an alarm on my phone to remember to feed the dog. I’m not sure the same concept works for children.
“Where’s Beast?” I looked around the meticulous bedroom—mostly Kyle’s doing, not mine. My style is organized chaos, while his is more organized…actually organized.
“Where do you think?” Kyle laughed and lifted the blankets, letting a rush of cold air surround my bare legs while at the same time revealing our fluffy white dog, fast asleep. He was a Bichon mix, weighing in at eleven pounds of pure defiance.
“Of course.” I pulled the sleepy pup into my arms and cuddled him.
He stretched his paws and yawned with the confidence of knowing he was the real owner of this house. Beast began waking in earnest in my arms and wagged his tail excitedly, looking between Kyle and me.
“Do you think we’ll forget about Beast when we have Baby Falls?” I asked, using our last name as our future baby’s nickname.
Kyle laughed just as the dog stood in my lap and pawed at my arm. “I doubt Beast would ever let us.”
“Stop, Beast. Ow!” I reached to push him off, but he jumped up and tried to scratch at my head instead. I ducked my face into my hands and wiggled away from the demented dog I loved so much. His attack on my head was soon foiled when a lump in the blankets distracted him and he had no choice but to attack it.
“Why does he always scratch your head? It’s the weirdest thing.” Kyle stared at us in amusement.
I shrugged, unsure.
“You should yell at him when he does it.”
“I can’t yell at Beast!” I say in a mock-baby-voice as I scoop my dog’s face in my hands and kissed his wet nose. He licked my mouth at the same moment and we accidentally traded salty tongue kisses. “Gross.”
Kyle ruffled the curly white fur on Beast’s back. “You spoil him too much.”
“Nonsense, Beast needs all the love.” It was a phrase Kyle and I had been saying to each other since we met, and now Beast had all our love, too.
“I’m the one who’s gone half the time. I need all the love.” He raised one brow, his tone suggestive.
“Too bad you’re already dressed and showered,” I teased, cuddling Beast tighter against my chest.
The pup squirmed in my arms, trying to escape, finally making me give up and let him go. The tiny white ball of fur bounded across the bed and onto the floor where he found a chew toy and tossed it in the air with his mouth, chasing after it.
Our house was mostly spotless and organized in every way except for one thing—Beast. His toys littered the floors, and he had a terrible habit of carrying bits and pieces of his food in his mouth and hiding it in random nooks and crannies.
Aside from his mess, the rest of the bedroom was clean lines, soft earth tones, and billowy fabrics. I craved comfort and nature, trying to bring the feeling of Mother Earth into our home. The curtains were thick, keeping out the light. The carpet was plush and brown, matching with the other fabrics in the room, which were either starch white or soft beige. There was an occasional pop of color, like the red throw blanket on the end of our bed, but mostly I loved the muted feel. It felt like me—calm, a little sullen, with a dash of attitude whenever it decided.
“I’ll make us some breakfast, and then we should get going to the doctor.” Kyle stood from the bed and handed me a steaming cup of coffee I hadn’t noticed on my nightstand.
I immediately scooped the mug from his hand and took a few gulps, regretting it only slightly as the hot liquid burned my tongue. The discomfort didn’t stop me though, my love for coffee in the mornings undeterred. “Thanks, babe.”
“Oh, I picked up some extra ibuprofen for you. It’s in your nightstand if you still have a headache,” he called over his shoulder as he headed for the hall.
And I forgot to buy you an anniversary present. Wife of the year. I must have been an amazing folk hero in another life to deserve him. It had been two years since we married, and he still treated me like a queen. My friends had all warned that once married, he’d slowly stop doing all the things he’d first done to woo me. Maybe that would still happen one day, but there was no sign of it yet and I certainly wasn’t holding up my end of the bargain.
I was really great in bed though. So, there’s always that.
I stretched and clambered out of our comfy king-sized bed, pulling my clothes off, my mind drifting to thoughts of a possible past life. I wasn’t particularly religious, though I had been raised Catholic. I stopped attending Mass in college and never felt the need to resume. It always felt more a duty to check off for the week than anything else.
I pulled on dark jeans and a loose-fitting cable knit sweater. It was still cold outside, but mostly due to the Chicago wind. Walking into the master bathroom, I stuffed my light brown hair into a loose bun at the base of my neck and brushed a few swipes of blush onto my cheeks. I dabbed brown mascara onto my already long lashes, topped with a subtle gold shadow I’d been told made my blue eyes stand out.
Kyle once told me my eyes remind him of ponds. Dark blue and slightly murky, as if something were hiding beneath the surface. I grinned devilishly at the thought. I liked feeling a bit mysterious—how when swimming you worry something might nip at your toes but you don’t know what. It doesn’t scare you from the silky water’s embrace, but it’s enough to keep you moving, hoping it won’t catch up.
Putting the makeup away, I surveyed the bathroom for any mess but found none. Kyle must have already taken care of it. All his training from a decade in the U.S. Marines made him the resident clean freak. Great, so I couldn’t even do that for him.
I really needed to get him an anniversary gift.
I stepped around Beast to pick up my phone and scanned through my text messages, while at the same time brushing my teeth. There were a few from my boss, but nothing urgent. I’d been an assistant at a law firm for the past few years, despite my lifelong goal to be a writer. We needed the paycheck, and I enjoyed the work for the most part.
Okay, that was a lie. Honestly, I don’t even know why I said it.
I’m trying to enjoy it. I go to work every day and tell myself this will be the day you’ll fall in love with your job. Then that turns in to tomorrow, and then the next day, and a year goes by and I still hate my damn job. Don’t get me wrong—it’s a great job and I know I’m lucky, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy.
I guess that’s kind of the common theme here.
Finished with brushing my teeth, I pumped some lotion onto my palms, hoping to calm the blisters that had become a part of me at this point. Kyle and I had a ridiculously expensive membership to a climbing gym downtown which we loved, but it really did a number on my hands and feet.
“Tessa, we’ve got to go!” Kyle called from the steps.
I grabbed my new journal. Beast led me out of the bedroom and down the hall, pausing at the open door to my left. He disappeared into the room, making me peek in after him. The little pup stood in front of the crib, surveying the room, then headed past me and down the hall.
I lagged behind and studied the nursery we’d set up months ago when I’d been pregnant. We lost the baby not long after. The pale purple walls were as gender neutral as we could agree on, with heavy drapes keeping the room dark for months.
It was still waiting to be filled. We all were.
I sighed, heading to the end of the hall and down the stairs. Kyle called for me again. Upon finding Beast, I led him into the kitchen and poured food in his bowl then secured a baby gate in the doorway to keep him quarantined on the tile floors with his toys.
“Be good, Beast. We’ll be home soon.”
He was already busy spilling the contents of his bowl onto the floor, oblivious to our departure.
My usual melancholy took a back seat and excitement swarmed my belly like butterflies on fast forward. Today was the day we’d been waiting for. Things were looking up, and for the first time in over a year, we had hope.
Because today, Baby Falls, is the first day of fertility treatments.
• ღ • ღ • ღ •
“How often are you having sex?” Dr. Dana Hill stared at me over thick, black glasses with a level of seriousness I envied. How did she ask such personal questions day in, day out, and not burst out laughing? Or blush with embarrassment?
“Uh, often.” Kyle fumbled on his words, crimson spreading across his cheeks.
“What’s often? Two to three times a week? More? Less?”
I decided to answer for the both of us. “About four times a week, sometimes more.”
I put my hand on Kyle’s to calm his nerves. I never minded talking about our sex life. It’s hard to stay quiet about it when you’re married to the physical embodiment of God’s gift to women. To this day, I cannot understand why someone with his impossibly good looks was interested in a mousy brunette like me.
Kyle is certainly not as open as I am though, and if the color of his cheeks was any indication, he was more than a little uncomfortable at the doctor’s line of questioning. I tried to stifle a grin at the irony since Kyle had been raised one flower blossom shy of being a full-blown hippy. His lackadaisical parents, Elias and Dixie Falls, were children of the sixties and nothing short of a stereotype, but somehow, they had the opposite effect on most of their three children. Kyle and his sister Kat were conservative to the point of polo shirts as a religion. Their brother Kurt was somewhere in between, not fitting into any mold, but certainly nothing like his parents.
“Four times a week,” Dr. Hill repeated, scrawling notes on a clipboard. “How long have you been trying to become pregnant?”
“About a year and half since we first decided to start trying. Kyle is in the U.S. Marines, so he was gone on his third tour into the beginning of last year. He was deployed a lot the first few years we were together, actually. Since he came home last year, he’s been stationed close by, so we’ve been able to ...uh, practice...regularly.”
“I see, and you stopped using condoms or other types of birth control?”
“Oh, were we supposed to?” I replied with a straight face.
“Tessa,” Kyle said in warning while his face tried to remain serious, but then he snorted a laugh. “Yes, Dr. Hill, she went off birth control a year and a half ago, and we haven’t used condoms since we were married.”
Based on the frown on Dr. Hill’s face, she didn’t appreciate my joke. “And, Mrs. Falls, you’ve had steady periods every month? No chance of conception?”
Struck with sudden sadness, I dropped my eyes to my hands, fiddling with the strap on my purse.
Kyle placed his arm over the back of my chair. “We conceived a year ago, but lost the baby at nine weeks.”
It was still hard for me to voice the words. A few friends had assured me miscarriages were surprisingly common, and nine weeks was barely anything—a follow up medical procedure rarely necessary since the body naturally cleans up after itself. They told me I couldn’t feel the baby yet, so it wouldn’t make much of a difference.
But it had made a difference. I might not have yet felt a kick, but I felt the presence of a life that wasn’t mine, and yet…was. I’d fallen in love, and hugged my waist, telling my little son or daughter how much I already loved them.
And just as sure as I’d felt the flicker of life inside me, I had felt it leave.
There was no agonizing pain, no terrifyingly massive blood loss. It was nothing like the movies had led me to believe. Instead, it was quiet and somber. It was slow and deliberate. My body was supporting life one minute, then clearing it away the next.
The tiny heart had stopped beating, and it was as simple, and complicated, as that.
“Ages?” Dr. Hill was firing out questions. I might have missed a few since I had tuned out, but Kyle seemed to be keeping up for the both of us.
I took a deep breath, slowly exhaling and imagining my negative thoughts and memories leaving with it. That’s what my therapist had taught me to do after the miscarriage. It was a process, but I was working my way toward being happy again and today wasn’t the day to think about loss or heartaches. We were taking our first steps toward making our family, creating a second Baby Falls—though we’d never forget our first. Life’s all about choices.
Today, I was choosing to be happy.
I needed to be happy.
“I’m thirty years old,” Kyle told her.
I glanced sideways at him, a teasing grin on my face. “And I’m twenty-eight.”
I needed to joke about something, anything, and ever since Kyle had turned thirty in January, I’d enjoyed kidding him about his ‘old’ age. I told him once I turned twenty-nine in September, I’d stay that age for the rest of my life. His response to that was to go through our entire kitchen to find every birthday candle we owned, counting out twenty-nine and throwing the rest away.
I squeezed his hand tighter at the memory, a dopey smile pulling at my lips. It’s no wonder I wanted to start a family with this goofball.
“Do either of you have any health issues I should know about?”
“Not that I know of,” Kyle answered.
He still looked so nervous, and I wanted to tell him it would be okay, but I guess this was what we were here to find out.
I shook my head. “Me neither.”
“What about these headaches you marked on your intake form, Mrs. Falls?” Dr. Hill stared at me again, as if accusing me of lying. She needed to relax…like, a lot. I wondered if she could write prescriptions for herself. If so, she should.
I shrugged. “Well, it asked me if I ever had any headaches, and I said yes.”
“How often? Are they severe?”
“Uh, a couple times a week. More often and more painful lately than they were at first. I think it’s the stress of this process. We’ve been trying for a baby for a while, you know?”
Dr. Hill fixed on me for a moment, squinting, as if deep in thought, before returning to her paperwork. “I want to run some tests. Mr. Falls, I’ll need a sperm sample from you first. The nurse out in the hallway will give you everything you need and show you to a private room. Mrs. Falls, I’ll need you to come with me to the fourth floor so I can run some scans after we do a blood test to check that you’re not pregnant now.”
“Scans for what?” I pictured being stuck in a giant donut-looking machine accidentally malfunctioning and trapping me forever.
“A full body scan will tell us if there is anything we need to worry about, cysts, malformations. At your age, pregnancy shouldn’t take a year, and in light of your miscarriage, we need to know what’s going on, so we’re going head-to-toe.”
I immediately suspected she wanted to bill my insurance for expensive tests. “What does fertility have to do with my toes?”
Dr. Hill rolled her eyes—a doctor rolled her eyes at me. That was a first. I kind of liked her a little now. “With no recent medical records to refer to—since your last physical was in college—I must rule out all possible problems before we proceed.”
I made a face behind her back, and Kyle stifled a laugh. So sue me. I didn’t like going to doctors. My father didn’t either, and he never made me go unless I was sick. I wouldn’t have gone in college if it hadn’t been required. In my opinion, it makes absolutely zero sense to go to the doctor when healthy, just to risk picking up a nasty virus in the waiting room and ending up worse than when I walked in.
I gave Kyle an envious look. “So, you get to look at booby magazines, and I get a full body scan. I bet this is how the feminist movement started.”
Kyle laughed, circling an arm around my waist. “It’s going to be okay, Tessa.”
I shot him the squinty glare I’d learned recently from watching Dr. Hill. “For you, maybe.” He was a little too eager about all this, if you ask me.
“I’ll think of you the whole time, babe. I promise.”
“Well, obviously,” I replied, wiggling my brows suggestively.
“Mrs. Falls, are you ready?” Dr. Hill was suddenly in my face, and I realized without the desk between us, this woman had a serious lack of social etiquette. Also, she’d definitely eaten tuna for lunch.
“Can’t wait,” I told her, pretty certain she wouldn’t pick up on my sarcasm.
As I followed Dr. Hill down the hall, I heard Kyle behind me asking the nurse for the Wi-Fi password so he could use the internet on his phone instead of magazines.
Bastard.