by S. M. Smith
“Oh?”
“Your strength… it’s pretty awe-inspiring.” I cup the back of her head and pull it close. “And…a little sexy.”
She leans the remainder of the space between us and meets my lips.
“I’m sorry it hurts you so much,” she says softly as she breaks our kiss.
“What?” I lean back and look into her eyes.
“When you find me crying. And when I’m in the hospital.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Jessie—“
“Stephen, I don’t mean to put so much burden on you. I knew it had to be hard on you to watch me go through all that, but I didn’t—“
“Jessie, stop. I stood before our friends, family, and God and promised to love you and stand by you through the good and the bad. I knew what the bad might look like going into this marriage and I know that it can get much worse. I’m not going anywhere, and yes. It hurts. But only because I can’t do anything to take it away from you. It hurts to watch you in pain and I’m not able to do a thing about it.”
A single tear escapes and slides down her cheek. I carefully kiss it away.
“But, you know what helps?” I kiss the edge of her eyelid and pull back to give her the sexiest smile I can muster. “Regardless of whatever is going on, I still get to hold you. I still get to kiss you.” I kiss the edge of her other eyelid. “And we get to try all over again.”
She sighs, but when I kiss the edge of her lips, she smiles. I kiss the other edge of her lips and she giggles. At the sweet sound, I scoop her up and carry her to bed.
Chapter Seven
~Jessie~
“Stop biting your nail.” Stephen reaches over and grabs the hand that was pressed to my chin and holds it tight. I look at him apologetically, but cross my legs and subconsciously start bouncing my foot instead. He sighs, “Baby, relax.”
I can’t relax. We arrived way too early to Dr. Graham’s office. I was able to get in for my ultrasound early, but Dr. Graham couldn’t see me any earlier than what was scheduled, so now we’ve had to wait too long to hear the results. I need an all clear from her. Not just so we can go to Haiti, but I just need some good news. I’m already expecting her to say that we have to stop treatment if we decide to go to Haiti and I’m not sure how I feel about that just yet.
And that’s the other problem making me antsy. To me, it’s still IF we go to Haiti. To Stephen, it’s WHEN we go to Haiti. We really haven’t talked it all through, but after last night’s meeting, I get the impression he’s determined we’re going regardless of what anyone says.
“Mrs. Cahill.” A nurse in adorable scrubs covered in cartoonish puppies calls me back to the office. She ushers Stephen and I in and we each take a seat in front of a large walnut desk. I’ve been in this office so many times at this point, I could tell you if someone moved a paperclip out of place. So there isn’t anything to distract me from my DEFCON 1 edginess.
Barely two minutes after the nurse excuses herself from the office, the door opens and Dr. Graham strolls in with a deadpan look on her face. Immediately, my mind wants to say she has bad news, but I calmly remind my inner pessimist that there could be a number of reasons why she looks so serious.
“Jessie. Stephen. I’m so sorry for your wait. I appreciate your patience today, though. I had a medical student shadowing me this morning and the extra questions have put me a little behind schedule. I apologize, but I haven’t even had a chance to look at your ultrasound yet.” She opens the manila folder she carried in and pulls out a sleeve of ultrasound pictures. I watch her face closely, hoping it will give something away before she speaks.
Her brows furrow and I grab Stephen’s hand, fearing the worst. As she slides down to the bottom image, her expression turns confused and I feel my airways close.
“Wow.” She runs through the images one more time before turning to her computer and starts typing and clicking. Her attention goes back and forth between whatever she’s reading on her screen to the images in her hand. I’m just about to faint for lack of air.
“Dr. Graham. I think Jessie really needs to know what you’re looking at. Otherwise, I might lose the feeling in my hand,” Stephen jests.
I jerk my head his direction and see his face has turned red. He glances down at our hands and I see my fingers have turned white and are digging into his skin. I immediately release him and mouth an apology. He just chuckles at me and shakes out his hand as Dr. Graham sets the images on her desk.
She squares her shoulders and clasps her hands in front of her and looks up at me, a hint of astonishment in her eyes. I’m pretty sure the earth has shrank to the size of a beach ball, causing my chair to start teetering to keep its balance.
“Well. I’m…kind of…blown away.” She shakes her head and looks down at the images again, almost disbelievingly.
“Blown away good or blown away bad?” My voice breathy and quiet.
“You haven’t been feeling any pains? No faintness, tightness or sharp, shooting pain? Anything?”
I shake my head at her, not sure why she’s asking the same questions the nurse asked before my ultrasound. Slowly her astonishment turns to amazement mixed with joy.
“Jessie, your ovary looks….amazing. You have two follicles that just appear to be swollen. What day in your cycle are you?”
“Twenty-seven,” I say stunned. I think I understand what she’s saying, but I need her to put it in kindergarten terms for me.
“They could be readying for your next cycle. But Jessie, other than that, we’re not showing anything out of the norm. Your cysts…” She pauses and I’m not sure if it’s because she can’t believe what she’s about to say, or if she’s carefully considering the correct words to use. “They appear to be gone.”
I finally exhale, letting the words sink in as air refills my lungs.
Oh, Jesus, thank you! Thank you!!
“They appear to be gone?” Stephen asks, apparently having a hard time digesting what this means too.
“I am no longer seeing them.” Dr. Graham nods.
I know she’s being careful with her words, but I can’t help the overwhelming hope that is drenching my soul right now. I look over at Stephen who appears to be warring between relief and concern.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“Nothing,” he says quizzically. He turns to Dr. Graham. “So does this mean Jessie doesn’t need the hormones now?”
“Not exactly. These hormones are to help aid her cycle to go as it should. This does mean that you don’t need to see me for at least another three months, though. That is, unless you become pregnant before then.” She smiles politely.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around having a healthy ovary. I feel like a huge burden I didn’t know I was carrying has been lifted. I don’t think I can fully comprehend what this means for our odds now; I am just elated that I don’t have any immediate threats of severe pain or further damage to my remaining ovary.
“Scar tissue?” I ask, unable to fully articulate my concern. Thankfully, Dr. Graham understands.
“That’s the other part that really baffles me. I’m not seeing any additional scar tissue.” She stares at the pictures again with that bewildered look again.
I sigh in relief. I feel tears starting to threaten my eyes and I decide to fight them. I’ve cried too much already. This is happy news; happy tears or not, I’m not crying.
“Okay.” Stephen leans forward, staring at the floor, trying to wrap his head around what this means for us next. “So no more cysts—“
“At this time. Jessie could very well develop more later down the road, but right now, she’s clean.”
“Okay, so no more cysts for now. She’s about to start a new cycle. Say she continues on her current regimen, minus the scheduled ultrasounds, what does this mean for our chances of getting pregnant this cycle?”
Dr. Graham furrows her brows again, wondering where this is going.
“Well, the chances don’t really change. She could still
continue to have problems with ovulation and fertilization just like she is now. But why wouldn’t she continue her treatment?”
Stephen hesitates and looks at me to confirm if whether I want to go here or not. We came to find out our options, so I nod.
“We want to join a mission group that is traveling to Haiti in two months.”
“I see. Well, you’re right to assume I wouldn’t want you on the hormones if you’re going to a third world country. The everyday threat of exposure to infections and disease that can be easily cultivated is dangerous in and of itself. You should be fine if you get the proper vaccinations. However, the risk of developing an infection or catching something while there combined with how that could impact a pregnancy is too high. I highly recommend that you reconsider.”
Stephen looks a little defeated. I reach over and lay my hand on his arm and he looks up at me, doubt in his eyes for the first time since Haiti was first mentioned.
“So, let’s say I go off the hormones for now. Would it be possible to pick back up once we get back?”
Dr. Graham looks kindly at me and sighs.
“After a thorough physical and ultrasound, yes. But, and please forgive me for intruding, but I’ve watched you two for over a year now and I know how badly you want a baby. You both have been incredible fighters on this journey. I don’t want to see this be a setback for you.”
She looks contrite and part of me wants to tell her off like I did our parents on Sunday.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she continues, “I completely understand and respect why you would want to go. But as your health care professional, I have to stress to you the importance a decision like this has on your goals. I must urge you to consider all your options thoroughly and think the consequences through before you make this decision. I will support whatever choice you make, but as an observer of the way you both have handled the hurdles put in the path to the family you want, I must ask you to reconsider.”
Speech evades me as the weight of her words settles in my mind.
“What would be the harm in her continuing the treatment until we leave? Then she could just resume as soon as we get back.”
Dr. Graham gives us both a sympathetic look. I know she’s being patient with us, but we really need to know everything if we are going to make an educated decision.
“Jessie could very much continue her treatment as it currently stands, but let’s say this cycle she becomes pregnant. That would put you both traveling while she begins the first trimester. She could potentially battle morning sickness while you’re on this trip. If Jessie doesn’t have a healthy supply of water to help keep herself well hydrated, she could run into a multitude of issues. Then again, the same thing could happen with her off the treatment. God works in mysterious ways and if He says it’s your time, then it’s your time.
“However,” Dr. Graham adds, “say she discontinues treatment. Nothing happens and you guys go to Haiti, do what you feel you are being called to do. You both come back healthy and without any concerns, I see no problem with picking things back up. I must stress you fully understand that should either of you come back with any infections or viruses, I will not reinstate the treatment until you both have a clean bill of health.
“Also, please keep in mind that any pausing and restarting of this regimen could be stressful on your body as it will need time to adjust each time you change. Keep in mind, you’re on hormones. Anytime your body has to adjust to hormonal changes, there are emotional and physical consequences. This additional stress could be anything from some weight gain to the production of cysts.”
Stephen and I both sit quietly while we contemplate what this means. This is a lot to process and I just need some time to wrap my head around all of it. I’ve barely had two seconds to rejoice in the fact that I’m cyst-free. Right now, I just need to enjoy my good news. I can inflict bad news on myself later.
“We haven’t finalized anything yet. Can I call your office and let you know what we decide by the end of the week?” I ask, ready to get some fresh air.
“Of course. But, and I promise I’m not trying to rush you into making a decision, but should you be leaning toward going on this trip, my professional recommendation would be to discontinue the medication on the first day of your next cycle. This will give us time to monitor your body and make sure that you’ll be healthy enough to travel.”
I go to stand and Stephen looks up at me from his seat, eyes searching mine to see what I’m thinking. At this point the pros and cons list seems pretty evenly balanced, so I just kind of feel numb toward the situation. I try to smile at him, but I know it must come out halfhearted.
“Thank you, doctor. I’ll be in touch later this week,” I say glancing back toward her.
“You’re welcome. And please don’t hesitate to call me if you think of any other questions. I’m happy to answer any other questions that may come up.” Her smile is less than enthusiastic as she hands me my discharge papers. I take them ruefully and let Stephen escort me to her assistant’s desk.
***
“Well.” Stephen turns to me as he buckles his seatbelt. Neither of us spoke as we left her office and I’m not sure if I was expecting him to want to talk all on the way home, but I’m wishing he wouldn’t ask. “What are you thinking?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. She gave us a lot to process.” I lay my head back against the headrest and take a deep breath.
“She did. Congratulations, by the way.” He checks his mirrors and pulls out into traffic before flashing a supportive smile my way.
“Thanks. I don’t even think I fully understand what that means, though.”
“What? Congratulations?” he snickers. I shake my head at him.
“No. Being cyst free.” I try to grasp that not having cysts does not equate to a green light on being able to get pregnant. But for some reason my brain just doesn’t get it. “If it doesn’t mean that we should be able to get pregnant now, what does it mean?”
I stare out the window, completely clueless as to how not having any cysts is a thing to celebrate. After about five minutes of cerebral sparring with myself on the logistics of my reproductive system, I decide to shift to the decision on whether to go to Haiti or not and the consequences either choice will make.
I’m pretty sure Stephen’s proverbial bags are packed and he’s already flying to Haiti in his mind. Instinctively, I want to pack up and be right beside him. But the thought of everything that could potentially go wrong has me putting my metaphorical suitcase back in the closet.
“Hey.” Stephen reaches for my hand while we’re stopped at a stoplight. “Where are you right now?”
I smile at the familiar question.
“I’d really like to say right here with you, but I’m afraid you might have left for Haiti already?”
He blushes and I add “disappointing my husband” to the list of cons side of the Not Going to Haiti list.
“Which way are you leaning right now?” he asks quietly. I hesitate and I think he takes my hesitation the wrong way because he lets go of my hand and sighs.
“I honestly don’t know.” My voice is practically a whisper. You could hear a pin drop at this point and I feel like the worst wife ever. “I just need a few days to pray over everything and see where God is leading me.”
“Us.” Stephen corrects me and I’m not sure how to take his comment. He sighs again as he pulls into our parking spot. He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to me after turning the car off.
“We need to be unified in this decision and if you’re having any doubts about going, then I should take that into consideration too. We’ll pray over the next couple of days, together, and ask for a definitive direction.”
He looks like he feels defeated, but there’s a strength I see in his eyes that has me totally thankful that he’s trying to support what I want too.
“I’m sorry I can’t just say yes or no at this point. I just need a little time.”
He re
aches across the car and cups my face. He pulls me to him as he leans in and kisses me carefully.
“Don’t be sorry. This is a big decision. One we both need to step back from for a reality check. I’m not upset. Disappointed that we’re even considering not going, a little. But I know how much a child means to you. And since you’re my everything, I can’t be upset.”
Chapter Eight
~Jessie~
Not having anything left to scrub, I sink into my favorite armchair with my Bible in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other. I had to fight to keep this chair, along with its décor clashing orange print, but I’ve had it since college and amazingly enough it’s still in excellent condition.
Okay, so fighting isn’t quite the right term for the conversation that went down about me getting rid of the chair, or even for the second conversation about getting it recovered. There was a lot of compromising and promises of certain dinners and other bribes, but I’m proud to say I have sufficiently perfected the art of persuasion when it comes to my husband.
The familiar hug of the chair combined with the rich creaminess of my hot chocolate helps me to relax a bit. I feel a little sore from spending the last hour and a half scrubbing both bathrooms and the kitchen appliances, sweeping and mopping, as much as a Swiffer WetJet could be considered mopping anyway because there was no way I’d be able to get up off the floor after scrubbing it on my hands and knees, the hardwood floors of the living and dining rooms and the kitchen tile. And I picked up and put away of all of Stephen’s stray laundry from the bedroom. I know I’m really going to feel it in a couple of hours, but at least our home is clean.
Stephen is due back anytime now and I know he’s going to want to know if I’ve made my decision. He told me yesterday that he would start looking at the mission trip as more of a possibility instead of an assumed thing, but when Grady stopped by to pick him up for their basketball game tonight, he said when.
When we leave for Haiti.
When we get back from Haiti.
