Chasing Someday

by Lindzee Armstrong

  Last time Kyra had idiotically asked if the sperm would fall out when she stood. Dr. Mendoza had assured her the cervix would close and hold it all in.

  “We’ll schedule a blood test for two weeks from now.” Dr. Mendoza patted Kyra’s leg in what she probably thought a comforting manner, but it made Kyra feel more awkward and vulnerable. Did she shave this morning? Kyra couldn’t even remember. What if Dr. Mendoza was repulsed by Kyra’s hairy legs? Sure, she had a paper sheet covering her, but what if the hair poked through?

  “Thanks, Doctor,” David said as she left the room. He gave Kyra all his attention. “How do you feel? Did it hurt this time?”

  “Not too bad. I’m fine.”

  He reached out and grasped her hand. “It’s going to work, Kyra. Have faith.”

  With three follicles ready, it had to work. Kyra thought about what it had felt like to be pregnant with Sophie. The debilitating morning sickness of the first trimester. The first flutters. A full-term baby constantly nudging at her insides, reminding Kyra she was there.

  They’d been so close last time. Please don’t let anything go wrong, Kyra prayed. Please let it work and let us bring home a healthy, strong baby.

  “Do you think Sophie will be upset if it’s a girl?” Kyra asked. “She seems pretty set on a brother.”

  “I think she’ll love the baby no matter what. She’ll be a great sister, too. Probably even share her toys.”

  Kyra laughed at that.

  Soon a nurse knocked on the door and told Kyra she could leave. On the drive home Kyra felt tired, and her stomach began to cramp. She knew from last time that was normal.

  “Are you okay?” David asked.

  “Yes, but I’m going to lie down when we get home. I need to rest.”

  “Of course. If your body’s telling you to take it easy, that’s what you’ll do. We spent a lot of money on this baby, and I want to make sure it works.”

  “It’s not a baby yet.”

  “No, but it will be. I can feel it.”

  Kyra hoped he was right.

  Megan didn’t go into work the day of her mid-cycle ultrasound. Nerves made it impossible to keep up her happy face, and she wasn’t in the mood for explanations to co-workers. She made some calls from home and wrote a couple of proposals, but eventually gave up on work and played the piano.

  She arrived at the doctor’s office a full twenty minutes early just to have a different environment to wait in. After a maddening forty-minute wait, they called her name. She then waited another fifteen minutes in an exam room, a too-small paper sheet her only covering. By the time Dr. Mendoza arrived, Megan was ready to hunt down a nurse and demand to be seen immediately.

  “I’m sorry about the wait,” Dr. Mendoza said as she sat down on her swivel stool. “We’re running behind today. Let’s take a look at those follicles.”

  Megan held her breath and watched the ultrasound screen as various body parts she didn’t recognize panned across the monitor. After almost thirty seconds of silence, she let her breath out in a whoosh.

  “Something’s wrong,” Megan said with certainty. “And you don’t know how to tell me.”

  Dr. Mendoza withdrew the ultrasound wand. “You’re right. Your follicles aren’t even close to mature.”

  Megan had expected the worst, but it still felt like a tsunami. “Zero follicles? As in, zero?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll proscribe progesterone so you’ll for sure have a period this month, and we’ll try injectables next month.”

  Injectables meant Follistim. More powerful medication meant more powerful side effects. And it meant their situation was getting more and more hopeless. Hysteria bubbled in Megan’s throat, and she struggled to swallow it back.

  “And what if I don’t ovulate on the shots either? I ovulated on Clomid last time. Clearly things are getting worse.” Despite her grapefruit and running and Metformin and everything else, PCOS was winning.

  “I’m going to do everything in my power to help you, Megan. We’ll pull out the big guns now.”

  And what was Clomid? Megan wanted to ask. Because it had felt like being run over by a truck.

  She hung her head and let the tears fall. She didn’t care that Dr. Mendoza looked on with sympathetic eyes. She didn’t care that her bottom half was completely naked save a paper sheet that barely covered her. Nothing mattered. They’d never have a baby at this rate.

  “Don’t give up,” Dr. Mendoza said. “Next month we’ll make sure you ovulate.”

  Megan barely held it together as she checked out at the front desk, paying the two hundred dollars the two-minute ultrasound had cost. If there had been even one mature follicle, Megan wouldn’t have cared. But there was no chance of seeing those two pink lines on the pregnancy test this month.

  Somehow she drove home, despite the tears compromising her vision. She knew she should call Trent, but couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone.

  Megan plopped down in front of the TV and flipped mindlessly through the channels while she cried. Trent called her once, but she hit “ignore” and kept flipping channels. She couldn’t face him right now.

  When Trent arrived home, Megan knew he was worried. She heard it in the cautious placement of his feet as he approached, in the tentative way he said, “Megan?”

  “The IUI is canceled,” she choked out.

  His face blanched with pain. “What happened?”

  “There weren’t any follicles maturing. Dr. Mendoza said next month we’ll try injectables.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes blinked rapidly. Megan knew he was fighting not to fall apart for her sake. He sat down, his arms on his knees, head down. “I’m sorry.” There was nothing else to say.

  Megan turned off the TV. “Why is this happening to us?” She heard the agony in her voice. “We’re good people. We try to do what’s right. We are ready to be parents. Why do things keep getting in our way?”

  A single tear rolled down Trent’s cheek. “I don’t know. It feels like us against the world.”

  “Yeah.” Megan leaned against his back, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “I tried to stay positive this month. But we don’t even have a chance.”

  “We’ll try again next month. Injectables will work.”

  “No, they won’t.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “How long until we decide enough is enough? I don’t know how much longer I can take this. How much longer I can put my body through this. It’s so . . .” Her voice broke. “Hard. I’m not strong enough to handle the constant disappointment.”

  Trent leaned his head against hers. “I’m not sure I am, either. But I keep getting the strongest impression we need to keep going. We’re doing the right thing, Megan.”

  “I don’t know if I believe that anymore. Maybe we’re not meant to have kids.”

  “Are you saying you want to stop?” He stroked her cheek as he asked, and she knew he was genuinely interested in her answer. If she said yes, Trent would consider it.

  Could she give up completely? Could they stop trying, just like that?

  “I’m a freakin’ nightmare on Clomid,” Megan said. “How am I going to be on the FSH injections? I can’t handle it. You can’t handle it.”

  “I promise you that I can.”

  “I want a resolution, one way or the other. I can’t keep waiting and wondering.”

  “I know.” Trent kissed her forehead. “We need the Lord’s help right now. Let’s say a prayer.”

  Megan’s first reaction was to say no. God had allowed this to happen to them, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted His help. But she knew that meant she needed it the most.

  The tears fell more earnestly, and she nodded. “Okay.”

  They closed the blinds and sank to their knees in the middle of the floor. Trent took her hands in his and pleaded with God to allow them to be parents. Then he grew silent. For nearly two minutes he didn’t speak as
warmth and power filled the room. It trickled through his hands, up her arms, and down her spine, like warm water cascading over her entire being.

  “I know You want us to be parents,” Trent said, his voice choked. “I know we’re meant to have children. But we can’t do it alone. We turn it over to Thee.”

  Megan started sobbing. Fire coursed through her veins, warming up all the parts of her soul that had grown cold as they struggled with infertility. A quiet promise burrowed into her heart.

  They would have children. The Lord would allow them to be parents—she knew it.

  Trent was crying too. Megan heard it in his voice. She raised a hand to her cheek to wipe away the tears, but more replaced them almost instantly. Trent closed the prayer and let go of her hands, taking a great weight with them.

  Megan threw her arms around him in a hug. “We’re going to be parents,” she whispered, and this time she wasn’t just hoping the words were true. She knew they were. She didn’t know how it would happen or when. But one day they would realize their dream. “Did you feel it? The Lord knows of our struggles and desires, and He’s going to help us.”

  “I know. I’ve never felt something so strongly in my life.” He laughed too, burying his head in her neck. “I love you so much, Megan. There is no one I would rather go through this with.”

  “I love you too.” She held on to him tight, unable to stop smiling.

  Megan was grateful for the peace Trent’s powerful prayer brought since she had a piano lesson with Sienna the next day. “Hey,” Megan said gently when Sienna walked inside. “How are you?”

  “Dane and I met with our parents last night. They think we should let someone adopt the baby. I don’t know what to do. I can’t take a baby to Juilliard if I’m accepted. But I don’t want to give it away.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Does that make me a bad person?”

  Yes. That was Megan’s initial response. But she knew it wasn’t the right one. Megan thought back to when she was seventeen—young, carefree, and with her own dreams of being a concert pianist. “It means you’re seventeen. You have your whole life ahead of you, and a baby is a huge responsibility.”

  “We’re going to meet with a crisis center our pastor recommended tomorrow. Just me and my mom. I guess they provide free counseling or something. Dane doesn’t want anything to do with the baby, and he doesn’t care what I decide. His parents are furious with him. So am I.” She laughed hollowly. “I was so stupid.”

  “We all make mistakes.”

  “Why don’t you have kids yet, Megan?”

  Megan thought of the prayer and clung to the peace she’d felt. “It hasn’t been for lack of trying. Trent and I haven’t been able to get pregnant.”

  Sienna let out a sob, covering her face with her hands.

  Megan patted her back, alarmed. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

  “You must hate me. You can’t have kids, and here I am, the unwed teenage mother.”

  Megan rubbed circles on Sienna’s back. “I could never hate you.”

  “But doesn’t it suck that I’m pregnant and you’re not?”

  Megan half-laughed, half-sobbed. “Yeah. It really does.” Megan gave Sienna a quick hug. “Let’s work on something new today. I thought we could try more contemporary pieces for a while and take a break from classical.”

  Sienna’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Sure. You need to practice arranging music. What song should we do?”

  The rest of the hour passed quickly. By the time Sienna left, she looked happier, and Megan certainly felt happier.

  Trent’s truck pull into the driveway just after Annabelle and Sienna drove away.

  Megan met Trent at the mud room door with a kiss. “How was work?”

  “Good. Was that Sienna?”

  Megan nodded, and Trent followed her into the kitchen. “Sorry I haven’t started dinner yet. I’ll put the casserole in the oven.”

  Trent leaned against the counter as Megan preheated the oven and set the foil-covered casserole inside. “You look happy.”

  The statement surprised her. “I am happy. Sienna’s a dream student. She’s talented and eager to learn. It’s a pleasure to be her teacher.” Megan frowned. “I feel awful about the situation she’s in with the baby.”

  Trent grabbed Megan around the waist and pulled her close. He nuzzled her neck, and she laughed, trying to push him away. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to be romantic, but you’re making it difficult.”

  “Oh, well in that case.” Megan kissed him.

  A few pleasant minutes later Trent pulled away. He leaned his forehead against hers, running his fingers through her hair. “I love seeing you happy. Music is good for you.”

  “I wish I could teach lessons full-time.” While Trent’s income sufficiently supported them, it wasn’t nearly enough for fertility treatments. Megan worked to support the thousands of dollars they paid a year to the RE’s office.

  “Then why don’t you? Quit being a real estate agent and be a piano teacher.”

  Megan groaned, pushing Trent away. She grabbed a loaf of bread and a knife off the counter and began slicing. “We’ve had this discussion before. You know why.”

  “We don’t know you wouldn’t make as much money as a piano teacher.”

  “Yes, we do. Maybe after we have a baby—”

  “It’s always after we have a baby.” Trent ran a hand through his hair. “I feel like we’ve put our entire lives on hold for a baby, and I’m sick of it. I want us to enjoy life. You can’t end up like last time.”

  Megan stopped cutting the bread. “It’s not going to be like last time.”

  “It certainly has been the last few weeks.”

  “I’m sorry. I lost myself for a while. But the prayer last night helped.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into him, breathing deeply. She caught a hint of car oil and brake fluid, and she loved it.

  “You’d better stay with me this time,” he said. “I need you.”

  “We’ll get through this together. If I start falling again, you’ll catch me.” Megan dropped the knife and turned in his arms. “I trust you.”

  Trent leaned down and kissed her. It was urgent and desperate, and she kissed him back. She wanted to believe what she had said. But it was hard to stay grounded when her entire life was being overrun by something she couldn’t control.

  Megan hung up the phone, feeling deflated. Billing had called, apologizing for the mistake and informing her she owed an extra ninety dollars for the ultrasound she had on Monday. Talk about salt in the wound. She’d tried to hold onto the peace from the prayer, but the disappointment of a canceled IUI wasn’t easy to brush off, especially when it was constantly shoved in her face.

  Megan put her credit card back in her wallet and tried to forget the conversation. She shrugged into a jacket and went outside. As Christina and Megan drove to Kyra’s home, this time to sort winter coats, Megan tried to act cheerful, but it was hard.

  Kyra’s house was one of the smallest in the neighborhood, but had a nicely kept front yard. Megan knocked on the door and plastered on a smile when she heard footsteps approaching.

  “Hi, Kyra,” Megan said, then tried not to wince. Too much. Time to dial back the cheer.

  “Hi,” Kyra said, giving her an odd look. “Come in.” She looked skinny and cute as usual, in her tunic top, burnt yellow leggings, and ballet flats.

  “How have you been?” Christina asked as they stepped inside.

  “Good.” Kyra’s smile seemed tight. She sat down on a worn chair, a pile of coats in front of her. The house was sparsely decorated with carefully chosen statement pieces that Megan loved. “My house is overflowing with winter gear. We’ve had a good response to the drive this week.”

  “That’s great,” Christina said. “Let’s sort them into gently used and more wore, and then we can sort them into coats, hats, and gloves. Thanks so much again for helping with this, ladies.
”

  “No problem,” Kyra said. “Sophie will be at that school in two years. I’m happy to help.”

  “And I like being involved in the community,” Megan said. “So it’s a win-win-win for all of us.”

  As they sorted winter gear, the conversation flowed easily from Sophie to David’s promotion to how Christina utilized a slow cooker to simplify her life. Megan smiled a lot and commented occasionally. But mostly she brooded inside.

  Did Kyra realize how lucky she was? She probably wished she had nicer furniture and a bigger house. But Megan would switch places with her in an instant. Yes, Kyra had had a miscarriage. But she’d probably announce a new pregnancy soon.

  Megan had to keep going so she could have what Kyra had. She wouldn’t let a few needles keep her from having a family.

  “That’s the last coat,” Christina said.

  Megan blinked. Were they finished already? Megan was really starting to lose it.

  The three women loaded the boxes into Christina’s car, then said their goodbyes. As soon as the car doors were shut, Christina asked, “Is everything okay? You seemed distracted.”

  Megan tried to hold her smile in place. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “I can tell something is wrong. Come on, I’ll take you out for ice cream. Just don’t tell Gary it’s not organic, or gluten and dairy free. I think ice cream and a listening ear can solve most of the world’s problems. Or at least help us gain some perspective.”

  Megan didn’t want to turn down Christina’s overture of friendship, but she didn’t want to talk about this either. She had learned a long time ago there was a fine line between being open about infertility and discussing it with fertile people. Openness was good. Discussions usually left Megan frustrated, mad, or crying. Sometimes all three. “You’re probably busy. Really, I’m fine.”

  “I’m not busy if you aren’t busy.”

  Megan finally nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Christina said as they drove toward the shopping district of Riverton. “Is it Sienna?”