The last time I took a pregnancy test I knew it would be negative, I just knew in that heart of hearts place that you were not there. But still. All infertility has this phrase, but still. It could have been. We had done it all right. The times, the medicines, the temperatures, the testing. I didn’t tell him that I was going to take it, because I needed that time to myself. It was negative, and all I could think, over and over again, was: how will I tell him, how will I tell him, how will I tell him? Up to this point when we got a negative we just like, well, that sucks, and we went on. We certainly never cried. Because we didn’t understand that we were one a schedule. Now we knew.
I did not have the heart to tell him to his face. I felt that if I could see the devastation on his face it would ruin us, that I would never be able to forget it. That if I saw that I would would not be able to swallow the mouthful of disappointment I had. So I went in the kitchen and started doing the dishes and I casually tossed out: Oh, honey. I took the test, it was negative, and then I held my breath. And it was silent. And I could hear him from the living room, he said: negative? in the most confused, sad voice I’ve heard him have. I cried. Something broken in me is keeping him from his dreams. This is a special kind of despair.
I don’t tell you this so that when you are born and do one day read these you feel sad. I just want you to understand more why our decision to fundraise for the money that we need to get to you is one of the hardest choices yet. His reason is that he doesn’t feel comfortable asking people for money. Mine is a little bit that, but it is more that once so many people become involved with our journey to you, they become a part of this. A tiny bit of the joy is theirs, and I am happy to share joy with them. But this procedure is not guaranteed. That could be a lot of disappointed people. A LOT of pressure on my bunk uterus.
So, I guess what I am saying is that I’m scared. I just want to throw it out there that if you can pull any strings from your side, and you know, move this along or something? That would be cool. I will take you to your first rock concert before all your other friends can go, and we can sneak a few of them there. Or maybe all my dreams will be answered, and you will be a book nerd. In which case, honey, we are going to have so much fun at Powells. You can pick out whatever you want, and we will sit and drink coffee and you can read and I will have trouble concentrating on anything but miracles.
Me & Him