Baby Trap

by Hodge, Sibel

  Oh, the relief!

  Five times I thought I’d finished and each time there was still more. Where was it all coming from? My poor bladder had probably been stretched to the size of a hot air balloon.

  When I finally came back, he turned to another machine with what looked like a long, thin willy and put a condom over it.

  ‘If you can bend your knees, put the soles of you feet together and drop your legs to the sides like a frog. It won’t hurt.’

  Then he advanced on me with it. Visions of painful smear tests sprang to mind. OK, it looked thin and pretty harmless, but they always said having a speculum inserted didn’t hurt and it bloody well did.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Then fufu cam was in and I opened one eye, trying to look at the screen again.

  After a few minutes, he said, ‘Good. I can’t see any problems. The only cause for concern at the moment is your ovulation, but I’ll know more when I do the HSG test to check for any blockages or scarring on your fallopian tubes. If you’d like to get dressed again, the nurse will take you into the treatment room and get you set up.’

  The nurse put the pictures he’d taken in a cardboard folder and handed them to me before leading the way.

  OK, one test down, one to go.

  ‘Did you take some Ibuprofen before you came as instructed, as the test can cause mild cramping?’ she asked.

  ‘Yep.’ In fact, I’d taken four, just to be on the safe side.

  Please let it be OK, Zelda.

  I lay down on the second couch of the day in a bright white room with my legs up in stirrups.

  ‘I’m just going to insert a speculum inside your vagina,’ Dr Dye said, ‘Then I’ll wash your cervix with a special soap and insert a tube up into your uterus. Next, I’ll put some X-ray dye through the tube to see if it flows freely, or if there are any blockages. OK?’

  Did I look OK? I was going to have dye inserted up my fufu by Dr. Dye!

  ‘Mmm,’ I mumbled, wishing he would hurry up and get a move on.

  I clenched my eyes shut as he inserted the speculum.

  ‘Just relax,’ he said.

  Stop saying that! I opened my eyes and glared at him.

  He peered into my cervix for a while with deep concentration.

  ‘The tube is going in now,’ he said. ‘When I insert the dye you may get some cramping sensations.’

  Hmmm, better not mention the dye to Karl in case he gets paranoid about getting a coloured willy when we next have sex and it puts him off.

  ‘Dye going in now,’ he said.

  I hope he means the colour dye going in and not himself.

  Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

  It felt like a million razors had just shot up inside me. Mild cramps? Was he freaking joking?

  I broke out in a cold sweat as he stood up and walked around to a booth. ‘I’m just going to take some pictures now. I may ask you to move into another position. Just relax.’

  Fuck off! How can I relax?

  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out the pain. Oooh, ah, ooooooooh. Not good.

  Take your mind off it. Think about something else.

  Chocolate. Nope, not working.

  Jimmy Choos. Who cares? Ouch!

  Fluffy kittens. My toes clenched in pain.

  Punching the doctor. That worked slightly.

  ‘Turn onto your right side,’ Dr Dye said.

  No. I don’t want to move.

  I bit my lip and turned over.

  ‘Not long now,’ he said.

  Oh. My. God.

  ‘And turn onto your back now.’ He came out of the booth and sat down in front of me. ‘Tube and speculum coming out now.’

  About time!

  ‘There. All done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

  If I hadn’t had my legs strapped into stirrups, I would’ve kicked him in the head.

  ‘Just lie here for about ten minutes and the nurse will bring you to my office to discuss everything.’

  The nurse inserted a pad between my legs and removed them from the stirrups after the doctor had safely left the room. Hmmm, probably someone had kicked him in the head before and he was onto that number.

  ‘You might get some spotting for a few days. That’s perfectly normal,’ she said.

  I wasn’t listening, though. I was too busy cramping.

  ****

  Twenty minutes later, I sat in his office, staring at a model of the female reproductive tract and trying to ignore what felt like the period pain of an elephant.

  ‘Now, I’ve looked at the X-rays and your tubes are all clear, so there’s nothing to worry about there.’ He put the X-rays to one side and examined another sheet of paper. ‘This is your husband’s sperm test results.’ He handed it to me to look at.

  Words like morphology, motility, and pH swam in front of my eyes.

  He caught my worried look and gave me a reassuring smile. ‘Everything is fine there, too. He has excellent sperm.’ He leaned back in the chair and steepled his fingers. ‘So, I’m going to prescribe Clomid for you to stimulate ovulation. I’ll start you on the minimum dose of 50 mg, and you need to take it on days five to nine of your cycle.’

  Why the minimum dose? I wondered, calculating the next date I could start it, which could be another three or four months, depending on my cycle. Four months! This was getting ridiculous. It was OK for him to sit there and dish out the tablets, but what about me? It had already been ten months and nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. He didn’t understand the agonizing wait for something to happen. The high of hope that this could finally be the month, followed by the low of desperation and depression when your period arrived. He didn’t understand the crazy and irrational, hormone-flying-around thoughts, that if you didn’t get pregnant this month you’d just curl into a ball and die. My periods were all over the place, so my hormones were shot to bits. He didn’t understand this unexplainable ache inside me to be a mother that literally consumed me at times. It was like my heart was being gnawed away. Yes, he was a gynaecologist, but he wasn’t going through what I was going through. How could he? He was a man.

  Part of me wanted to smack him over the head with his model fufu, and part of me wanted to burst into uncontrollable tears.

  ‘Can’t I just start at the higher dose and get on with it?’ I pleaded as the waterworks began.

  He shook his head. ‘We have to start you on the lower dose. Increasing it can actually make conception more difficult.’ He passed me a box of tissues from his desk as if it were the most normal thing in the world to have a thirty-three year old woman blubbing in his office.

  I took one and sniffed loudly, cringing with embarrassment.

  ‘You should ovulate five to nine days after the last tablet of Clomid. When you start taking the first dose, I want you to book another scan for day ten of your cycle and we can see if you’re ovulating.’ He started writing some notes down on a pad in front of him. Then glanced up and said, ‘We don’t normally prescribe it for longer than six months.’

  I gulped. ‘Why?’ Which came out more of a parrot-like squawk.

  ‘One of the side effects is that, if you take it for longer than six months, it can make the lining of your uterus too thin, which will make it even more difficult to conceive.’

  I slumped forward in the chair, deflated, struggling to cope with this new information. It was like giving you help with one hand but taking it away with the other.

  ‘But don’t worry about that now,’ he said brightly.

  Ha! Easy for him to say. The clock was ticking before I’d even started any actual fertility treatments.

  ‘There are still other options you can try in the future: IVF, egg donation, surrogacy. Make sure you eat a healthy diet, get plenty of sleep. And remember, Gina, relax.’

  I glanced at the model fufu one more time. If I aimed right, I could get him smack between the eyes.

  Fuzzy Duck

  Karl found me lying on the sofa, staring into
space with unblinking eyes. The cramps had subsided to a dull ache but it still wasn’t exactly what I’d call a pleasant way to spend an afternoon.

  ‘I’ve been phoning all afternoon.’ He stood over me, eyebrows furrowed together, concern plastered all over his face.

  ‘I didn’t feel like talking.’

  He sat down next to me and pulled me into his arms. ‘What happened?’

  I filled him in on the latest.

  ‘Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘At least they didn’t find too much wrong, apart from the ovulation, and the drugs will fix that, right?’

  I couldn’t even bring myself to say what I was thinking: What if they didn’t work?

  ‘You just need to be more positive,’ he said.

  Yeah, yeah, my womb is a flower. Blah, blah, blah!

  ‘I know!’ His face lit up. ‘Why don’t we go away this weekend somewhere? Stay in a nice hotel and treat ourselves? A change of scene might get your mind off things.’

  I perked up slightly at the thought of getting away from it all. It would be good to spend some quality time together instead of either getting snappy with each other because we were both under pressure, or me bursting into tears if an advert came on the TV for nappies.

  But then I calculated my cycle. Dr Dye said I wasn’t ovulating soon, so what was the point of going away and wasting a romantic weekend when the sex would be useless. No, it was better to save that for when there was at least a chance it would work.

  ‘Let’s do it another time.’ I forced a smile.

  ‘OK, well how about we go out this weekend with our friends and have some fun? Have a drink, have a laugh. It’s been a long time since we did that. Moping around the house isn’t going to help things.’

  I sighed, nestling closer to him. ‘But then I’ll be tempted to drink, and I just don’t want to do anything that’s going to jeopardize my chances.’

  He was silent for a while before finally saying, ‘Don’t you think that constantly being down about things is going to jeopardize your chances more? That’s not good for you, either. One night out isn’t going to hurt. In fact, I think it would help you. Go out, get pissed, and come back and have normal sex again.’ He winked at me.

  Normal sex? I’d forgotten what that was like. I thought back to the days just after we got married before we’d even contemplated trying for a baby. Fast and furious, slow and sensual, christening every room in the house with wild abandonment whenever the mood took us. Passion, excitement, and spontaneity was the name of the game. And then afterwards, we’d lie in each other’s arms as the sweat glistened off our bodies, talking, or laughing, or listening to the sounds of each other breathing. It was fantastic! Now my legs were swinging in the air the second after he came, and we might as well have been couple of farm animals being forced to breed. We needed to do something to get that passion back.

  I thought about his suggestion for a moment. Tempting. Very tempting. And maybe he was right. It had been ages since I’d felt like the old me. I was in danger of losing myself in all this frustration. Yep, what I needed was a good night out and a reality check.

  I sat up. ‘You’re right. Maybe we can get Kerry to come if she’s back. I haven’t seen her for ages.’ Kerry was an air stewardess who worked funny hours, and we hardly ever got to see her anymore. ‘A good night out with the old crew.’ I nodded firmly. ‘I’ll phone them now.’

  ****

  ‘Kerry!’ I squealed as she walked in the pub that Saturday night. ‘God, it’s been ages!’ I gave her a hug and turned to the guy she was with. ‘And you must be?’ Kerry hadn’t said she was bringing anyone with her. It had been six months since she’d broken up with her last boyfriend, and not a hint of anyone new on the scene, although I didn’t have a clue why not. She was petite, with long blonde hair and huge blue eyes framed by luscious lashes.

  ‘Mark.’ He gave us all a beaming smile and shook my hand.

  I ignored it and gave him a hug instead. ‘Any friend of Kerry’s is a friend of ours. Come and meet the rest of the gang.’

  There were introductions all round as I sipped my first wine in months, savouring the flavour. I’d only had half a glass and felt slightly tipsy already. What was I going to be like by the end of the night? Oh, well, that was what I was here for – to have fun and let my hair down.

  ‘So when did you two meet?’ Amelia asked Kerry and Mark.

  Mark glanced briefly at Kerry, obviously smitten. Decked out in designer jeans, a smart shirt, gelled hair and just the right amount of aftershave, he’d certainly made an effort to meet us all.

  ‘At work,’ they both said in unison, then turned to each other and laughed.

  Oh, God, I hoped he wasn’t an air hostess, ahem, I mean air host. Weren’t most of them gay? No offence to gay people, but Kerry had what I’d call a rocky love life. She never seemed to find the right guy, and I didn’t want another one to break her heart.

  ‘I’m a pilot,’ he said.

  ‘Wow!’ Amelia said. ‘I thought pilots were all stuffy and boring.’

  That earned her a jab in the ribs from Dan.

  But Mark just laughed. ‘Actually, most of them are a bit up themselves. No, I fly cargo planes, not the big boys. We’re a lot more down to earth.’

  ‘Well, you’re in for an interesting night.’ Karl slapped Mark on the back. ‘It’s been ages since we all got out and had some fun, especially Gina.’ He glanced at me with a grin. ‘So…tonight we need to play some drinking games to cheer her up.’

  I groaned. ‘Oh, God, I’m on my way already. I’ll be under the table in about five minutes, snoring.’

  ‘No complaints!’ Dan said. ‘I’m liking the sound of this. What did you have in mind, mate?’ he asked Karl.

  ‘The name of the game tonight is “Monitors,”’ Karl went on as we all grinned at each other, waiting for more. Drinking games had played a big part in our past, and Karl and Dan always went to great lengths to try and outdo each other with the funniest ones.

  I giggled. ‘What?’

  ‘We’ve all got to be monitors of some kind,’ Karl explained. ‘Gina, you can be statue monitor, Amelia, you can be toilet monitor–’

  ‘Ew, I don’t like the sound of that.’ Amelia scrunched her face up, but Karl put his hands up and carried on.

  ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’ Karl chuckled. ‘Mark, since you’re the new boy here, I’ll let you do the honours of being drinking monitor. Dan, you can be hair monitor. Kerry, you can be…’ he tapped his lips, thinking, ‘shoe monitor. And I’ll be fuzzy duck monitor.’

  We all burst out laughing, waiting for him to give us the rules.

  ‘OK, throughout the night we all have to carry out our respective monitor roles. So, whenever Gina makes a pose like a statue, we all have to copy her for at least ten seconds without moving. Amelia, if anyone wants to go to the loo, they have to ask you, and you have complete discretion whether you let them, and, of course, you have to tell them how much of their drink they have to down before they’re allowed to go. Mark, you have to tell everyone what they’re drinking on the next round. And if you say, down in one, to any of us, we have to do the honours and down the drink we’ve got. Dan, whenever you say “hair,” we all have to mess up our hair. Kerry, you’re shoe monitor, so whenever you say, we all have to swap one shoe with each other.’ He paused, waiting for the rules to sink in. ‘And whoever the last person is to do the challenges has to take a big gulp of their drink.’

  ‘Ha!’ I said. ‘How are the boys going to get in our high heels?’

  Dan nearly choked on his pint of beer with laughter just thinking about it.

  ‘And,’ Karl carried on, ‘since I’m fuzzy duck monitor, we’ll be playing a tongue twister game, and anyone who gets it wrong has to take a gulp of their drink.’ He paused. ‘Got it?’

  Nods and smiles all round.

  ‘Great!’ Karl rubbed his hands together.

  I turned to Amelia and Kerry. ‘So wh
at have you two been up to this week?’

  ‘Hair!’ Dan cried out with enthusiasm, keen to get the game started. He grabbed some of Amelia’s black bob to put over his own bald head, which was hilarious, and we all got our phones out to take pictures.

  Everyone else followed suit, laughing. I gave myself an unflattering centre parting. Kerry pulled all of her long hair over her face. Amelia couldn’t do much with her choppy bob since half of it was being used as a toupee for Dan. Mark, who seemed to be pretty game, gave himself a fringe, and Karl, well, his closely cropped hair wasn’t moving much, so he licked his hand and pushed it back.

  ‘Ooh, I need a drink.’ I waggled my empty glass around, feeling the wine going to my head big time and enjoying the sensation. I glanced at Mark who was drinking monitor.

  ‘OK, we’re all having wine this round,’ he said, and the boys bundled to the bar to get our drinks.

  As soon as he’d left, Amelia and I huddled closer to Kerry.

  ‘So, how’s it going?’ I nodded in Mark’s direction.

  ‘He’s really sweet.’ Her beaming smile matched his. ‘We’ve known each other for a while through work, just as friends, but we only bump into each other occasionally. Then he asked me out last week. I’m sorry I haven’t managed to call you guys in ages. We’re short staffed and I’ve been pulling lots of long-haul flights.’

  ‘He looks nice.’ Amelia checked Mark out.

  ‘He is.’ Kerry nodded dreamily in his direction. ‘He’s really thoughtful and funny. And we just seemed to hit it off as soon as we met.’

  ‘Here we go, girls.’ The boys handed us our wine.

  I put mine down on the table and pulled a ballerina statue pose, arms above my head in an arc, standing on tiptoes. ‘Ballerina!’

  Everyone just about managed it, apart from Dan who couldn’t balance and had to keep holding onto the table for support.

  We all ignored the amused stares of the Saturday night drinkers and carried on.

  ‘Can we stop now?’ Mark grinned at me as his legs wobbled.