The nurse, who hadn’t introduced herself, and Hilary exchanged a look I couldn’t read.
“I think we should step out, then,” the nurse said.
Hilary moved toward the door. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The nurse followed, giving me a reassuring smile before stepping out.
The door clicked shut and just like that, I was alone with the ominous table and the too-thin paper sheet that was supposed to make me feel less vulnerable. The scene wasn’t an unfamiliar one since I’d been going to the gynecologist for nearly a decade, but never before had I felt so helpless. Uncomfortable, yes. No one loved getting a pelvic exam. But lost? No. Never. Only now, I did.
Knowing I couldn’t avoid it forever, I forced myself to undo my shorts. The air was cold, and I was instantly chilled when I’d slipped them off even though only a little more of my flesh was exposed. Goose bumps popped up on my legs, seeming to intensify when I removed my underwear. I looped them over the hook on the back of the door, my shorts on top, then moved to the table. Ripping into one packet, I followed the instructions I’d been given, tossing it into a nearby trashcan before repeating the process with the second. Then I climbed onto the table, unfolded the thin paper sheet, and waited.
There was no clock in the room, but for some reason, I imagined I could hear the seconds ticking away. Voices were audible from somewhere in the hall, then there were footsteps. I tensed as they drew near, but relaxed when they passed. More time slipped by, and the voices outside the room were joined by another, deeper one. I stiffened again, knowing the time had come, then grimaced when one of the women laughed. Thevoices grew closer, the excitement in them clearly audible, then the knob rattled, and the door was pushed open, and the same white-haired doctor I’d seen on my last visit stepped into the room.
“Miss Murphy!” he exclaimed in a jubilant voice, his focus on the tablet in his hands. “What a blessed day.”
I said nothing.
He lifted his head, looked me over, and gave a small frown. “I do realize this can be hard, so don’t think I don’t.” He waved to the nurse, who’d stepped in behind him with Hilary. “Shut the door, please, Tasha.”
Tasha, who didn’t look at all like a Tasha, eased the door shut without a word.
The doctor focused his serious gaze on me. “As I was saying, I understand not all women dream of motherhood, and even some of those who do find this process difficult. I hope you can comfort yourself in the knowledge that since passing The Fertility Act, we’ve made great strides toward preserving the human race. You and all the other fertile ones are part of that.”
Fertile ones. I hated the term. It made us sound like numbers, statistics, instead of human beings. Which, I supposed, was the point since it allowed people to forget they were forcing actual women to procreate against their will.
When I didn’t reply, the doctor cleared his throat. “Okay, well, I suppose we should get down to business.” He took a seat on the wheeled stool, then scooted toward the exam table. “Mrs. Tantor already went over the details with you, and you’ve read and signed the contract. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Do you have any questions about the procedure, concerns about what follows, or other issues to discuss before we proceed?” the doctor continued.
I shook my head.
He frowned. “I need a verbal response, Miss Murphy.”
I had to swallow to find my voice. “No. I don’t.”
“Good.” He cleared his throat again, which after only two visits, I’d learned was a habit of his. “Your temperature, asrecorded by your government issued wristband, has indicated you are currently ovulating, which coincides with your last menstrual cycle. To verify that, I will do a quick pelvic ultrasound. If I determine you are ovulating, we will proceed with the insemination. A specimen has been chosen based on your blood type, medical history, as well as a few other factors to ensure the best chance of a healthy fetus, but you should be advised that in no way is conception guaranteed. After insemination, you may experience some spotting or cramping. This is normal, but you should report back here if it becomes extreme. You should inform us if you get your cycle, but if you do not, you will return to the clinic in two weeks, at which time you’ll receive a blood test to determine if you’re pregnant. If the test is negative and you still do not get your cycle, another test will be performed a week later. Do you understand all of that?”
I nodded and said, “yes,” when he paused.
“If you do not conceive this month, we will try again in three months’ time. Do you understand?”
Unable to form words, I nodded.
“I need a verbal response,” the doctor said, sounding more exasperated this time.
“I understand.”
“Good.” He twisted on the stool, so he was facing the nurse. “Gloves.”
Tasha hurried to retrieve a pair from the box mounted beside the sink, and I watched as the doctor pulled on first one then the other. The latex snapped into place, and he turned so he was once again facing me, what I was sure he meant to be a comforting smile on his lined face.
“If you’ll lie back, I can get started.”
I did as I was told, then scooted lower, knowing it would be his next request. A poster of a fuzzy orange kitten was taped to the ceiling, one paw clinging to a rope as it dangled in midair, the wordshang in thereprinted beneath. It was ridiculous. Stupid. Juvenile. But I still stared at it.
“Now, feet in the stirrups,” the doctor said, his tone gentle.
