Page 30 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

“Good morning!” A small woman with stark black hair bustles into the room, immediately pumping hand sanitizer into her hands.

“Good morning,” I return, heart rate already rising.

There’s something so demoralizing about being on the other end of the examination. And feeling like I fail every time.

“I’m Dr. Chen,” she says, shaking my hand. Hers is cool and dry, cold, and smelling of alcohol. “I had the pleasure of chatting with your doctor back in California. If I understand correctly, you’re on your second round?”

“That’s right.”

“Your vitals look good, and right now we’re just waiting on the results from the blood test,” Chen says, gesturing to table. “I’m assuming you know the drill?”

“I do,” I say, lump forming in my throat. Two IVF cycles down, and I’m here now to see if the last one managed to take.

“How have you been feeling?” Dr. Chen asks, her cool hands moving over my body. “Any unusual cramping or spotting?”

“No.” I stare up at the ceiling tiles, counting the little dots and calculating the total number across the ceiling in this room. “Some tenderness in my breasts last week, but that’s gone now.”

She hums in acknowledgment. “Scoot down a bit more for me.”

I do, gripping the edges of the paper-covered table. The speculum is uncomfortable but not painful—another thing I've gotten used to.

“Everything looks good here,” Dr. Chen says after a moment. “No signs of inflammation or irregularities.”

We move through the rest of the examination, and I’m just adjusting my gown after cleaning up with a tissue when there’s a soft knock at the door.

Chen glances at me, then calls for them to come in. Someone hands her a clipboard, and the moment she looks at it, I know it’s not good news.

“I’m sorry, Finley,” she says, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear. I know this is difficult...”

The rest of her words fade as the familiar ache spreads through my chest. Two cycles, now. Forty thousand dollars. Countless appointments and injections.

“Have you considered other options? Donor eggs would increase your chances significantly—“

“No.” The word comes out sharp. Final. “Sorry,” I say, dropping my forehead into my hand and staring at the floor tiles. “I've been over this with Dr. Roderic. If I can't use my own eggs, I don't want to do it. How soon can I start the next cycle?”

Dr. Chen is quiet for a moment, letting me compose myself. Through her office window, I can see the Burlington mountains, still dusted with early morning frost. It's beautiful here, in a way that makes my chest ache for different reasons.

“What about taking a break?” she suggests, her voice impossibly soft. “Give your body some time to rest—”

“I don't need a break,” I stop her, trying to keep my voice soft. My doctor in California was more aligned to my attitude, would have already started planning for the next round. The idea of taking a break feels like giving up. “I need to try again.”

“It’s something—”

“How soon can we start the next cycle?”

She looks at me for a long moment, then picks up her tablet. “We'll need to wait for your next period. Then we can begin the hormone protocol again. But I want you to really think about what I said. Taking some time, focusing on other aspects of your life might help.”

I think about Sammy, about the way he's starting to trust me, to improve. About the flutter in my chest when he smiles.

About coaching him through finally asking Harper out.

“I'll think about it,” I lie. “Send the protocol to my phone? I'll need to coordinate with my assistant about scheduling.”

“Of course.” She stands, and I can see the concern in her eyes. “At this clinic, we try to create a warm environment, strong connections between doctors and patients. I find it helps with the process. You can call me anytime, Finley. I’m here for you through this process.”

“Thank you.” I manage a smile, professional and controlled. Just like everything else in my life.

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