‘Great.’ Dr Ryan snapped on the gloves and pointed at a screen. ‘This is where you’ll be able to see your uterus via ultrasound. You’ll see the catheter being inserted and even the embryo.’
‘Oh my gosh, that’s amazing.’ I quivered from the cold, from the nerves, from the magnitude of what was about to happen to my body – artificial insemination.
‘It’s going to be quite uncomfortable as I know you need to go to the bathroom and Stella here is going to be pressing down on your bladder quite firmly with the transducer so we can get a good picture of your uterus.’
I nodded, digging my teeth into my bottom lip. ‘I’ll be right,’ I said, wriggling my toes, trying to draw my focus to another part of my body.
‘Oh, sorry, but you must keep very still, okay?’
‘Of course.’ I laughed, embarrassed. I scrunched my toes, my legs quivering.
Stella lifted my gown up to below my breasts, then squirted cold gel over my lower abdomen. My skin rippled with goose bumps as she pressed the transducer down just above my pubic bone, smearing the gel. The screen came to life with grainy black and white images but nothing that made any sense to me.
I held my gown in place, gripping the fabric in my hands, almost wringing it out as Dr Ryan inserted a cold speculum, forcing it to lock open before she swivelled around, asking the other nurse for the embryo. She was handed a soft transfer catheter.
‘Now, Shannon, just try to relax. Take a deep breath and keep your eyes on the screen. You’ll see the catheter being inserted into this space right here, that’s your uterus.’ Dr Ryan ran her index finger in circles over a mass of black on the screen.
I closed my eyes for a moment, filling my lungs as Stella moved the transducer over my abdomen, pushing it down over my bladder, forcing it around in small circular movements. I gritted my teeth.
‘I’m just inserting the catheter into your cervical canal right now, but you really shouldn’t feel anything.’ Dr Ryan leaned forward, concentrating. ‘You’ll be able to see the catheter on the screen any moment, and that tiny dark ball at the very tip is Jon and Justin’s embryo.’
I narrowed my eyes, studied the screen with its blotches of speckled black, grey and white, in the centre the long, slender tube of the catheter entering the black mass and at the tip, a microscopic dot – the beginnings of a baby. Tears welled in my eyes, a flurry of shudders moving up my chest. I managed a smile for Dr Ryan. ‘That’s unbelievable,’ I mouthed.
‘It is, isn’t it? Now, watch the tiny dot move from the catheter. I’ve just released it into the uterus.’
My mouth opened in surprise as the minute dot moved from the catheter, floating, graceful, settling into its new home – my womb. ‘Wow.’
‘Now, I’m just going to remove the catheter very slowly,’ Dr Ryan said, pulling the tube from my body before glancing up at me. ‘And you’re done.’ She grinned. ‘And don’t worry, it won’t fall out when you stand up – the walls of the uterus are pressed together so the embryo is held in place. It’s a question I hear all the time.’
She wheeled back on the stool, handing the catheter to the nurse before unclipping the speculum and slipping it out. Stella lifted the ultrasound device off my abdomen and I was afforded minor relief.
‘I bet you’re ready for the toilet now.’ Dr Ryan laughed, removing her gloves and throwing them in a bin.
‘You have no idea how ready I am.’ I sat up on my elbows as Stella pulled my gown over my thighs.
‘Well, you can go, we’re all done. The embryo has been transferred. You’ll be contacted by one of our nurses with regards to a blood test to confirm the pregnancy, but you should already have the referral form. It’s usually ten days from the transfer.’
‘Thank you, Dr Ryan. Thanks for everything,’ I said, sliding off the bed and straightening the blue fabric down around my knees.
‘All the best. I look forward to hearing the good news.’ She winked. ‘Oh, can you tell Jon and Justin I’ll be out shortly to see them?’
Nodding, I left the room, dashing to a bathroom down the hallway, knees knocking together in my haste.
As I sat down on the toilet, relief melting through my limbs, I thought about what Dr Ryan had said about the embryo staying in place. Of course it was true, but my mind went into overdrive. Could it slip out, could I be the anomaly, the one person that it happened to? Of course not, but . . .
In the IVF clinic toilet, it hit me. It wasn’t just me anymore. I now had another person to worry about. There was somebody else, a fragile, minuscule human who was only five days old and working to take up residence in my body, using that environment to grow, thrive and be born.
I processed what had just happened, how easy it was. The procedure took seven minutes, yet the preparation had taken eight or nine months, and there I sat, starting the journey with a baby hopefully growing inside me, another eight to nine months before we’d all see it to fruition.
I walked back to Jon and Justin, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. They stood in the bay, Jon picking at his thumbnail, Justin glancing down, pressing his phone to his chin. They both looked up as I approached, relief, excitement and curiosity on their faces.
‘How’d you go? All done?’ Jon asked, moving his hands to his hips.
‘It was amazing, guys. I actually saw the embryo being released into my uterus.’
Jon raised his eyebrows in wonder. ‘So it all went well? Dr Ryan was happy with everything?’
‘Perfect. She said everything went as she expected and that the embryo looked as it should, healthy.’
‘So now it’s just the final acupuncture treatment?’ Justin asked.
‘Yep, I’ll go and get dressed. Meet you in reception. I think Dr Ryan was going to pop out and see you guys and say goodbye.’
It felt odd walking back into the acupuncture treatment room that I’d been in only an hour ago. Physically I looked the same, but my mental shift astounded me. Cautious in my movements, focused on the wellbeing of the embryo that had been placed in my womb, I held my hand over my stomach as if to guard the little being from harm. In that short space of time I had become a different person, on a different journey now. No longer hoping to get pregnant, I was pregnant. Of course, we had to wait ten to twelve days for confirmation, but I had the same feeling as Justin – this was the one.
Following Bree’s instructions, I lay on the bed as she inserted another round of needles. My mind wandered, aware of a new energy inside me – something so tiny that held onto life, growing, drawing from me all the nutrients it needed to exist. Bree left the room, leaving me with my thoughts. I moved my hands to my belly, resting them there.
‘Grow, baby, grow,’ I encouraged, rubbing my flat tummy, closing my eyes. ‘Grow for your fathers, grow for me.’
‘How d’you feel about Baby JJ?’ I asked from the back seat of the boys’ car. ‘I think I need to give it a name so I don’t slip up and say something silly like “my baby”, plus I don’t want to call your baby “it”.’
‘Baby JJ . . . for Justin and Jon. I like it,’ Justin said, beaming at me from the front passenger seat.
‘And my kids will have something to call the baby too.’
‘I think it’s a great idea,’ Jon said, pulling the car into their driveway.
That afternoon as Justin attended to the horses, I sat by a crooked lemon tree, its gnarled branches bowed with spotted fruit. My concentration diminished, halfway through To Kill a Mockingbird I laid the book on my lap. I couldn’t help but rub my belly, willing the embryo to take. Walter was attentive, staying next to me, and I wondered if he sensed that something was going on. Resting his muzzle on my leg, he nudged me to scratch his head. His fur was soft, curly, and I dug in, giving him a good scratch behind the ear. I hadn’t been that close to a dog since my childhood friend, Bacchus – a cocker spaniel cross something and every bit crazy. He failed puppy school, spent our walks choking himself on the leash, and never listened when I called, often
running in the other direction, freedom his only intent. A free spirit, he was my best friend.
One day, after fourteen loving years, I got the call from Mum to say he had passed away in the backyard of our family home, underneath a thicket of azalea bushes. I left my house immediately, sobbing over the steering wheel, reflecting on the times we’d spent together, the secrets I’d told him and the comfort he gave. Trembling, I walked into the yard, and spotted my dad in the back corner with a shovel. I stopped, preparing myself to view Bacchus’s body. Stacey arrived, wiping her nose with a tissue, and I followed her down to the far left corner of the yard, where Dad was digging a hole.
‘Baccie,’ I cried, standing next to his body. He seemed to have shrunk, his lifeless frame smaller than I remembered. His eyes were open, glassy, and his tongue dangled from his muzzle. Flies buzzed his mouth, and I wanted to bat them away, scream, ‘Leave him alone! Let him rest.’
‘He’s dead,’ Stacey said in shock, weeping into her tissue.
Dad stopped digging and forced the end of the shovel into the soil before gently kicking Bacchus’s body with his workboot.
‘Don’t do that!’ I yelled, breaking down.
‘What? He’s dead,’ Dad said, nudging the body again.
‘But his eyes are open, please don’t do that,’ I cried, unable to bear the sight of my bounding crazy sidekick lying still, deceased.
Dad glanced at our faces, registered the pain. He knelt, smoothed a cupped hand over Bacchus’s eyes, closing them.
I couldn’t bear to watch Dad pick up Bacchus’s limp body, drop him into the cold earth, shovel dirt over him. As I drove home, wiping my nose on the back of my hand, I realised that I was lucky to be twenty-three and only just experiencing the death of a loved one. I’d lost pets before but nothing as connected to me as my dog. As I thought about the fourteen years my dog had lived, it was evident that all life had a beginning and an end, and that life had a purpose, even if we didn’t truly understand what that purpose was. I saw life as an opportunity for growth and expansion.
A flock of kookaburras cackled, bringing me back to the present. The breeze moved through the gum trees, rustling leaves, bringing the scent of lemon blossom. Walter’s head lay in my lap, the book pushed to the ground. I glanced down over the sloping pastures, fenced paddocks and grazing horses. My hand navigated back to my belly, cupping it.
‘Grow, Baby JJ. Please grow.’
That night Justin’s parents came over for dinner. Afterwards I asked them to take a photo to mark the occasion. Jon, Justin and I arranged ourselves against the wall, me in the centre, arms around them. Wayne and Sheri stood back, holding iPhones at arm’s length, squinting. Sheri came over to show us the picture and I smiled – a photo with three subjects, each of us hoping there were actually four.
‘We’d better go,’ Wayne said, handing the phone back to Justin. He walked up to me, wrapped me in his arms. ‘Thank you for everything you’re doing for the boys. Really, I can’t say it enough.’
I pursed my lips, trying to contain the emotion rising inside me. ‘You’re welcome. I’m just glad I can help.’
Wayne pulled back, his face flushed, and I caught a glimpse of Jon, a surprised look on his face. I hugged Sheri and she thanked me also, excited by the prospect of a grandchild.
As we waved goodbye, Jon leaned in. ‘I can’t believe Wayne opened up like that. It really would’ve taken a lot for him to say those things to you.’
The next morning Jon drove me to the airport while Justin taught some of his horse-riding clients.
‘I’ll do a pregnancy test in about five days,’ I said as we pulled up at the airport. ‘I know the clinic doesn’t advise it, it could be too early, but it might not, so I’ll let you know.’ I winked.
‘Please do, and let me know if you need anything. You’ve got the Visa debit card with you?’
‘Yep, I’ve got that. I’ll just need a pregnancy test from the chemist,’ I said, picking up my bag and stepping out of the car. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll see you again – hopefully before the twelve-week scan?’
‘I hope so too, that seems so far away.’
We smiled and hugged goodbye. Leaving Jon standing by his car, I turned to walk into the airport. The next time we’d speak I’d be relaying good news or bad – life-changing and exhilarating or disappointing, a loss that would take us back to the start, another wait on our hands. I mulled over the nervous wait ahead – five days of questioning my body, analysing, wondering and hoping. Would my body accept the embryo? Would it be the one?
13
Baby JJ . . . are you positive?
Five days later, in a two-bedroom cabin by the beach just twenty minutes north of home, I stood in the bathroom, ripping open the box of a pregnancy test. We were on our annual but brief Garner family holiday. For Christmas, Andrew’s mother and father would buy each of their three children and their partners and families a night’s accommodation in a caravan park somewhere on the mid north coast. This time we’d chosen a caravan park close to home yet far enough away to feel like we were on a mini holiday, and we all added a second night to extend the break. This afternoon, Andrew had gone fishing with his father, and Jaxon and Keira played outside with their cousins, shrieks of boisterous laughter filling the room as I took advantage of some time alone, tearing at the foil wrapper with shaking hands.
Moments later I placed the stick on top of a tissue on the vanity, waiting. I walked to the glass sliding door to check on the kids, their grandmother watching them from the front verandah of her cabin. I raced back to the bathroom, nerves bundled up like knotted thread. It had been more than three years since I’d used a pregnancy test, so I scanned over the instructions again, then raised the stick. My shoulders slumped. Not pregnant. I closed my eyes and opened them again, just in case they were playing tricks on me, but the test still told the same story – one pink line. Negative.
My head whirred with a flurry of thoughts: Maybe I did it wrong? Maybe it’s just too early? I should’ve listened to the clinic, waited for the blood test.
I urged myself to stop, think logically. It had only been five days since the transfer. Why was I doing this to myself? It was typical of me to be so impatient – I’d been the child who’d crouch by the Christmas tree, glancing around to make sure I was alone, then lift and shake my presents before ripping a tiny hole in each of them because I couldn’t wait for the surprise, I had to know. Once I’d committed the act, a corrosive guilt always ate away at me. I’d spoiled my own surprise, made my mother cross, and also taken away the joy for the gift-giver. I’d thought it was something I’d outgrow, but even as an adult it seemed I couldn’t contain my excitement, the eagerness and anticipation.
‘So do you think you’re pregnant?’ asked Andrew’s sister, Sallie.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. It’s so hard to tell. I don’t feel any different.’ I reached forward to grab an olive from the platter on the table. The kids giggled in the background, bouncing on a huge jumping pillow near the barbecue area, their feet sandy, hair in knots.
Sallie’s boyfriend Mark lowered his beer. ‘Do you think you’ll do this again for someone else after these guys?’
‘I’m not sure. We have talked about the possibility of a sibling, so I could do it again for Jon and Justin – as long as everything works out with this one first.’ I patted my stomach.
‘Okay, but they’ll already have a child so wouldn’t it be better to help someone else who has no children?’ Mark asked. It was a valid point.
‘Yeah, I know what you’re saying, but the way I see it is that Jon’s the biological father of this child, and if I do it again, Justin would have a chance to be the biological father of the next child, which would be lovely for him.’ My skin flamed with heat. I knew that everyone would have an opinion and that I’d be potentially judged for whatever decision I made.
‘You’d really do it again?’ asked Andrew’s father, David, doubt in his voice.
&nb
sp; ‘Maybe, but I haven’t committed to anything just yet. I have to see how this first one goes. If it works out well and the birth is good, then I don’t see why I can’t do it again.’ I swallowed a lump in my throat, reaching for my mineral water.
Three days later, eight days since the transfer, I lay in bed with restless legs, anxious to know my fate, the baby’s fate. It was 26 March, a Wednesday. As the morning sunlight pierced through the blinds, Keira sauntered into our room. Her eyes puffy, her hair sitting like a nest on the top of her head, she climbed up onto the bed and snuggled into me.
‘Morning, Mumma,’ she said, burrowing into my chest.
‘Morning, my baby.’ I kissed her forehead, tucking my arms around her. ‘Did you have a good sleep?’
She smiled, nodded, rubbing her eyes with clenched fists.
‘That’s good.’ I squirmed, pulling the sheet off my legs. ‘Guess what?’
‘What?’
‘Mummy’s going to do a test now to see if I’m growing a baby in my tummy for Jon and Justin.’
Keira’s mouth snapped open, her eyes bulging, before she screwed up her nose in disbelief, as if she’d processed the idea and it didn’t make sense. His face still buried in a pillow, Andrew reached his arm over to cuddle Keira as I hopped out of bed. I went to the bathroom and opened the pregnancy test I had left there, ready, the night before. A few shaky moments later I snapped the lid shut on the urine-soaked test and placed it on the vanity. I squeezed my eyes closed, battled with my curiosity. I could just open my eyes . . . see what was developing before I walked away . . . No! It wasn’t going to be like my Christmas presents all those years ago. I was stronger than that. I forced myself to leave the bathroom.
‘Hi, Mum,’ Jaxon yawned, shuffling into our bedroom.
‘Hey, buddy, how’d you sleep?’ I cuddled his warm body into my legs.
Labour of Love Page 11
