I told myself it would be okay. This was a good thing, actually, because it meant my time in the program would be over quickly, and then my life could return to normal. I could date and drink. Hell, I could take up smoking if I wanted. My life would once again be my own. My body would once again belong to me. This was for the best.
I couldn’t even believe my own lies.
Days passed, and my period still didn’t come. I tried not to dwell on it, but it was impossible. With each passing moment, I became more and more desperate. I even prayed, which was something I’d never done. As unsure as I’d been about how I’d wanted this to go, I knew with certainty that I didnotwant to be pregnant right now.
Before entering the program, it had been years since I’d dreamed about my short stint at the farm, but after my missed period, it seemed like that was all my unconscious mind could focus on. The smells – wood burning in the fireplace, the earthy scent of the countryside, and fresh lavender – found me each night, as did images of that time. I dreamed of walking through the kitchen, the old wooden floorboards giving beneath my feet as the sounds of sobbing floated from the back bedroom. People I’d forgotten existed joined me at night, holding my hand, and whispering quiet words of support, hugging me. It was like my mind was begging me to return to the farmso they could once again fix this horrible situation.
If only I could.
I woke exactly two weeks after the insemination, groggily stumbled to the bathroom, and relieved myself without much thought. It wasn’t until I wiped that reality slammed into me. Except for urine, the toilet paper was clean. Meaning I still didn’t have a period.
I burst into tears.
It took a while to regain my composure, but once I had, I dropped the paper into the toilet, stood, and flushed. This wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t my choice, but it was happening, and I needed to deal with it. Soon.
I had to go into the clinic but part of me wanted to put it off a little longer. They didn’t close until five, after all. I could drag the day out. Take my time. But what would I do in the meantime? I couldn’t go to work. I’d be too distracted and out of sorts, and too prone to spontaneous crying. But I hated having to tell my boss I wasn’t coming in. Again. It didn’t matter that it was the law and that she’d been more understanding and sympathetic than I could have imagined, I still felt like I was shirking my duties. It wasn’t like me to not be focused on my job. Not that anything that had happened lately was like me. It wasn’t. I was a stranger in my own life. So much so that when I moved to the sink to wash my hands, I expected to see someone unfamiliar staring back at me from the mirror. That I looked the same made no sense because it felt like my life was unraveling. LikeIwas unraveling.
The thought had me wondering if this wasn’t the best outcome. Maybe if this whole thing had to stretch out for years, I wouldn’t come out of it as a whole person. Maybe a little more of me would unravel or fade away with each passing month, and by the time it was all finally done, I would be a shell of my real self.
After staring at my reflection for longer than I liked to admit, I finally pulled out my phone and typed a quick text to my boss.
I HAVE TO GO TO THE CLINIC TODAY.
Sending the message gave me no relief, and neither did theresponse that quickly followed.
I’M SORRY. LET ME KNOW IF YOU NEED MORE TIME OFF.
A few dots followed, telling me she was typing more, then another text appeared.
I’M HERE FOR YOU. WHATEVER YOU NEED.
The words had me tearing up all over again, and I quickly put my phone away. It was nice to know I wasn’t alone, but in some crazy way, it also emphasized the situation. Which was one thing I didn’t want.
I showered slowly, took my time getting dressed, and did my hair even though I wasn’t in the mood. Once it was curled, I pulled it into a ponytail because there was no point in trying to look cute. After all, no one at the Department of Fertility cared about me. All they were interested in was my womb.
Despite the hazy clouds filling the sky, the morning was hot and sticky with humidity when I stepped outside, and in less than five minutes, my shirt was clinging to my skin. Briefly, I considered taking my car, which was parked around the block, but since that would only get me there faster, I decided against it.
I started walking.
People nodded hello as I passed, and I did my best to seem congenial even though I felt anything but. It was like I was living in a totally different universe than everyone else. Me morose and sullen, a dark cloud hanging over my head, while the people around me smiled like the world hadn’t practically stopped on its axis. What was happening? What could I do to stop more from changing? Nothing. I was trapped. A prisoner.
When the Public Health building came into view, I slowed even more.
There had been a time when this building had looked innocent. I’d barely noticed it as I went about my life back then.Definitely hadn’t given it more than a passing glance. Now, I couldn’t see it without feeling like I was looking at a prison or torture chamber or something worse. This was the building where my freedom had been ripped away, where my life had been changed, where even more changes, some I couldn’t even comprehend, would occur. And I hated the sight of it.
Fifteen feet from the entrance, I paused to collect myself. I was breathing heavily, my legs trembling, my hands clenched, but I wanted to at least appear like I was in control when I went inside even if I was anything but. I would hold my head high when I received the news, would act like I was above the whole thing. As if the idea of some stranger’s baby growing inside me didn’t faze me in the least. Only when I was alone – or with Trevor – would I truly react.
I sucked in a breath. Let it out. Repeated the process a couple times, willing my body to relax with each inhale and exhale. I could do this. I was strong. Resilient. Invincible.
I started walking.
Having been here several times recently, the greeter recognized me and smiled.
“Hello, again!” She seemed to do some calculating and smiled wider. “Expecting some good news, maybe?”
I gritted my teeth to stop from telling her to mind her own fucking business, all the while working to keep my expression level. Unemotional. Cool.
“Just going upstairs,” I replied in an icy tone.
