If sperm donation or adoption ends up being what we do, so be it. But let’s give it a try. I know we were saving for the future, but a year from now, when I’m back home, we can easily rebuild our savings. And if by some miracle it works, you’ll be about to have the baby when I get home for good. There’s no better time. That’s why I know it could work. Maybe all this time you never conceived because the time just wasn’t right. Because our future baby wanted to have a mom and a dad to come home to.
Is it strange to think God or the universe works in such ways? Maybe we were never meant to get pregnant until now. Ava, I can feel it in my soul that this is the right thing to do. And call me crazy, but I really think it’s going to work.
After you get this letter and let it sink in, I’m going to call in a favor and arrange a 48-hour leave. I’ll be in and out of there quickly. You’ll have to make an appointment for my sperm deposit. Then, if all goes well, you’ll be calling me in a month with good news.
I’ve never been more excited than I am now to get on with the rest of our lives.
Yours forever,
Trev
Chapter Thirty-Five
Trevor
Ifold up the letter and return it to the envelope, amazed this was the one letter I pulled from the multiple dozens of them. Some of the words from it flash behind my closed eyes.Is it strange to think God or the universe works in such ways?
I lean over and rest my elbows on my knees. We were told sperm donation or adoption were better choices, and it was my decision to do the IVF. It was me who suggested using all our savings to try something that was a long shot. If it weren’t for that, there wouldn’t have been additional embryos left for her to transfer. There would be no pregnancy. No impending baby.
Have I been blaming the wrong person? Am I a fool for walking out on her when all along she just wanted to give me what I wanted: a biological child?
WhatIwanted.
Not whathewanted.
I realize it may be the first time I’ve associated the old me with the new me. I’m him. He’s me. We’re one and the same.
I look up at the ceiling, waiting for a sign. Oranothersign as it may be.
My heart rumbles when there’s a frantic knock on the door. Is Carter back? Is it Ava?
“Help!” a man shouts.
I race to the door and open it to see a distraught stranger.
“Oh, thank god. Do you have cell service? Mine isn’t getting a signal.”
“Yes. What’s the problem?”
“Call 9-1-1. My wife is having a baby.”
“Where is she?”
He points to the driveway. “In our car. We saw your lights from the street. Her water broke and she says she has to push. We’re on our way back from our babymoon. The nearest hospital is too far. Our other kids all came quickly. I’m afraid she’s not going to make it.”
“How far along is she?”
“Thirty-seven weeks. We thought we had time. All the others came late.”
I shove my phone at him. “You call. I’m a doctor. I can help.” I run out in bare feet, rocks digging into my skin as I race over the gravel driveway. I open the passenger door to see a distraught woman looking up at me in abject horror.
“I’m Trevor. Uh, Dr. Criss.” I take a deep breath, feeling my instincts kicking in. “I can help. What’s your name?”
“Imala.” She grunts. “I’m feeling lots of pressure.”
“Imala, do you think you can walk?”
As she shakes her head vehemently at me, I assess her stature. She’s a slight woman. Less than a hundred twenty-five for sure.
