This is a piece of flash fiction for the Write…Edit…Publish community. This is done every other month, check out April’s theme in my sidebar! My piece is very sensitive, be aware it may trigger some people. I talk about infertility from a female perspective. It was tough for me to write, so I did this last minute. It’s my story embellished. I added some things that other couples go through that I don’t have access to. I added some methods my husband and I have not tried. I hope it helps people see that many couples who don’t have children may not have chosen that path, though some do. Thank you.TRIGGER WARNING: This story is about a couple’s struggle with infertility.
Deja Vu All Over Again, Again
© 2019 JM Weiner, All Rights Reserved
Word Count: 498 , FCA
The bathroom feels so cold. I’ve spent so many minutes of hope in here. I don’t dare hope anymore.
My husband waits in the adjoining bedroom until the alarm goes off. I don’t blame him. I sometimes wish I could too. We’ve both stopped using this bathroom for anything else. I used to love taking long baths in the huge bathtub.
Too many tests. Too many heartbreaks.
I feel broken. It’s the one thing I’m supposed to be able to do that he can’t. Sure, he’s a big part of the beginning. But I do all the rest for forty weeks.
It’s supposed to be my birthright. Or so I thought.
We’ve had all the tests. We’re both physically capable of conceiving. No one can tell us why we haven’t. We tried for a year the old fashioned way.
Next, we looked at all my periods from that year and figured out how long my “menstrual cycle” is. A perfect 28 days. I actually seem to start just about the time the moon is full. So we made special efforts to get our groove on when I was supposed to be fertile.
Another year, no pregnancy.
We studied so many online sites. We talked to other struggling couples. We talked to our family doctor and specialists. After all that, we decided to try this temperature thing everyone was talking about. You guessed it. Another year, no baby.
We did some more research. More talking. We came across a method that involved checking my cervical mucus. I’m sure you can imagine what that did for the romance and attraction. But he was a trooper and helped me with it. It was awkward for me, I can’t explain why. And yet another year passed without us getting pregnant.
Our insurance wouldn’t cover any fertility treatments at all. I forget why. It didn’t matter. We saved up all those years, just in case. So we took all our savings to a fertility specialist. We had enough for most of a year. That was miserable. Lots of negative tests after those implants and medicine and whatever.
I am so sick of feeling broken.
The negative tests aren’t even the worst part. You almost come to expect them after a while. It’s friends and family. “When are you going to have a family?” “When you going to give me grandbabies?” I just want to scream at them, “When you going to carry a kid for me?!”
I’m approaching forty fast. I don’t know if I want to be in my fifties or sixties when my child graduates from high school. We’ve looked into surrogacy. We can’t afford it. You know insurance won’t cover it. We’re open to adoption, but it can be costly too.
Why doesn’t insurance cover us building a family by means other than giving birth? It’s not my fault I’m damaged.
There’s the damned timer. I guess I better wipe my tears before he comes in. I don’t even dare hope.
Please don’t ask me how the test came out. I don’t know. Hopefully, it was positive with a healthy, uneventful pregnancy. Please let me know what you thought. How can I make it a better story (but please don’t say give it a happy ending, I’m pleased with the ending)? Where does my writing shine? Where could I use some more practice?
Thanks so much for reading!
If you enjoyed this story, you may enjoy my short story “The Haunting.” You can read it here. OR you can get a free electronic copy below!