“In therapy, I’ve learned that I let go of a lot of my hopes and dreams in an effort to shield myself from pain. One of those was the idea of me ever becoming a mother. The deeper I dig, the more I realize that it might very well be something I want someday.”
I hear abut. There had better be abut. We’re focusing on getting her healthy right now, not risking her life by putting a baby in her belly.
I reach across the table and hold her hand. It’s silent encouragement for her to continue.
“But.”
Thank fuck. There it is.
“I still have a lot of work to do before I can even think about bringing a child into the world.”
“Savvy, we’ve talked about this. I only want what’s best for you.”
“I know.” Her words are quiet now. “But what if a year from now, two years from now, I’m in a better place and decide I do want a child?”
“We can adopt or foster. There’s lots of ways for us to become a family that don’t potentially harm you in the process.”
“Or.” She points to the IVF packet in front of us. “We could freeze embryos now…just in case. Maybe I’ll get to a place where I feel strong enough to carry a child myself. Or maybe I’ll get to a place where I’m ready for a baby, but a surrogate is the safer option.”
I nod, silently reading the paper in front of me while she talks.
She continues, “Or maybe we’ll decide that adoption is right for us, or that we really don’t want children after all. My point is, I do want us to have options.”
“Monroe, the only option I care about is the one that keeps you happy, healthy, and safe by my side.”
“I know.” She rises and joins me on my side of the table. “I’m not ready right now, but I don’t want to regret anything in the future either. I’m just asking that we explore all our options while I heal myself.”
“Don’t you know by now, baby? I’ll give you anything you want, however you want, as long as you’re safe and I can call you mine.”
She presses her face into my chest. “I am yours.”
“And I’m yours.”
“So,” she says quietly. “You’ll consider jizzing into a cup for me?”
My laughter shakes us both. “Anything for you, Savvy Sweetheart. Anything.”
We sit in comfortable silence, picking at the fries in her to-go container and the extra pickles she got on the side.
“But,” I say after a while, “if we do end up having a girl, I’m calling dibs. Her name will have to be Rose.”
“How about Georgia Rose?” she counters. “You may be named after colors, but Austin and I are named after cities. It’s only right that she gets a piece of both of us.”
“Your family doesn’t count. They’re fucking animals.”
“Oh,” she laughs. “And your family is so much better?”
“Fair. But at least we got Sage and Braxton out of it. Who do we get from your side?”
She’s still laughing when I pull her into my lap. “I think it’s a good sign that we can now joke about our shitty childhoods, don’t you?”
I stare into her eyes, seeing a future so bright it outshines the trauma I spent years running from. “Yeah, I do. I think we’re heading for a very healthy future.”
“Oh,” she says, sitting up straighter. “I had a dog named Giggy once. He was great. Granted, Giggy was short for gigolo, but that’s not his fault.”
“We’re not naming our child after a male escort.”
She sighs into my hold. “Our child.”