Page 69 of Because of Her

“Let’s go for a stroll while we wait.” Madison links her arm around mine and guides me outside. I spot her glancing over her shoulder and assume it’s some kind of happily married couple signal that we need a minute.

The air outside is cool with a winter breeze, but the sky is clear and the sun bites my pasty winter skin. I pop up the collar of my linen shirt to protect my neck, and make sure my hair covers my ears.

“I would ask if you’re okay, but it feels redundant,” Madison says in a tentative voice as we follow the path towards the grapevines.

As we get closer to the field, I notice a stream that runs alongside it, hidden from view by the hill. Even with all the events I’ve done here, I’ve never walked down this far. The wet smell of moss and grass hits me, it’s refreshing compared to the polluted air I’m used to at home.

“I’m okay,” I say. “Well, I will be okay.”

Madison pulls me closer and we fall in step, linked together, shoulder to shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, I am. Your life doesn’t need to, should never need to stop all because I was dealt a shitty hand. I’ll probably never be truly okay about not having kids of my own, but as soon as that little baby inside you is born, I’m going to love it something shocking. I’ll be the coolest aunt the world has ever seen.”

Madison’s squeezes relax as she unlinks our arms. We’re close to the stream now, the gentle flow of the water and occasional croak of a frog breaking the silence that floats between us.

“You’ll bethecoolest aunt,” Madison repeats.

We stand, watching the water, contemplating life.

My heart aches for what I will never have, but I can’t put that hurt onto Madison. It isn’t fair for her when this should be the happiest time in her life. I will love this child, but it won’t be mine.

My mind drifts to the conversations Blake and I had. After so many failed cycles, so many false positives followed by tests with single lines, so many babies that came and went before I could even hear their heart beating, I was exhausted. My body kept failing us, and eventually, it said enough. We spoke about what our next options were. We could look into becoming foster parents, or potentially adopt. We could try egg donation, although my obstetrician didn’t think that would help. Or we could try a surrogate.

Blake was willing to try everything. He had one hand on his phone the second the doctor mentioned surrogacy, and on the way home he was listing off names of women he knew who might help. But there was only one woman I would have trusted. Madison. And I felt it was unfair to ask her before she had her own children. So we decided that was not an option.

Foster care and adoption were on the table for a while, but it all felt sohard. After all the strain and pressure I’d put myself under, trying to make sense of the adoption agencies and legalities was too much. I cracked.

“I can’t do this,” I say, staring at the paperwork in my lap.

For the fifth time this week, Blake has come home with information of yet another adoption agency. This one was apparently based closer to our suburb but was smaller.

“Okay, we’ll look tomorrow instead,” Blake replies.

Reaching across the coffee table, he grabs the papers off my lap and straightens them into a neat pile.

“No.”

He looks up, eyebrows raised, mouth hanging open. I want to stick my finger in it like he does when I yawn, but I’m so exhausted with everything, I don’t bother.

“You don’t like this one?” he asks, continuing before I can answer. “You’re right, maybe they are too close. We wouldn’t want the baby’s birth mother to end up living across the street. Good point. I’ll bin this one, and we can check back through the others before deciding. It might be a good idea to sign up with multiple agencies, in case that increases our chances.”

“No,” I repeat when he finally stops to take a breath. “I can’t do this.”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees and my face buried in my hands. Years worth of tears erupt as the gravity of my life finally pulls me down.

The whole time, the whole fight for children we’ve been through, I was able to tell myself it was worth it. I never cried because I truly believed this was just our journey. That the light at the end of this tunnel would be our child.

But I don’t believe that anymore. We’re not in a tunnel, we’re in a hole. And we keep digging ourselves deeper.

Blake sits next to me, one arm around my waist, the other hand caressing my knee.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out between sobs. “It’s been years and I’m done. Years of failure, and I can’t keep doing that. I need to stop this hopeless dream.”

I will away the memory. I didn’t know it then, but that conversation was the beginning of the end for Blake and me. Wetried to make our child free life work, but there was always something missing. The child we had both wanted, that we thought would be running around our feet.

Despite our love for one another, we started arguing more and more. Months after we stopped pursuing adoption, Blake brought it up again. He said he thought enough time would have passed and I would have been ‘over my melt down’.

I wasn’t though, and I could never look at him the same after that. In those months I had come to terms with never having a child, and I thought Blake had, too. But it turned out to be something he couldn’t give up.

---