“Oh, only one person can be in the room with her.”
The choice is obvious enough that my dad and I just start walking again.
Making him stand outside while I change, he comes in after and instantly holds my hand.
“It’s going to be okay, baby girl.”
“I know that.”
“Okay, good.”
My phone keeps buzzing with well wishes, so I turn it off. I press my head against the pillow and close my eyes.
Before today, I tried not to allow myself to think about the surgery, but sitting in a hospital room in a gown, I don’t have a choice. I expected fear to be bubbling in my gut, but instead, everything feels settled with a finality. No matter what I want, this is the end of my ability to carry a child. I’ll never be able to be pregnant after this.
I bite my bottom lip and breathe out through my nose.
I don’t know if I’ll ever come to terms with that. Some part of me will always ache for that lost chance. But this ending is the beginning of my journey to healing. After today, I’ll be one step closer to beating this. I have to hold on to that silver lining and hope the weight of this storm doesn’t drown me, because what other choice do I have?
I chose none of this, but I get to decide how I move forward, and I refuse to let this define me, even if it has already shaped how I feel as a woman. That’s the last line I will let it draw.
So instead of dwelling any further, I shift to daydreaming about all the good things that will come after this.
I guess at some point it turns into actual dreams, because the next thing I know, a nurse is waking me up to ask a bunch of questions. For most of them, I have to look to my dad for help, feeling like not enough of an adult to do this. Which is why I put him in charge of my directives.
Once finished with the admin stuff, they let me know they will be back soon to get me.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for you to have a husband in here instead of me.”
“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about that for a while.”
“Still no progress with Charlie?” He rubs the scruff on his chin, his head tilted.
“No.”
“You would think this type of thing would be a clarifying moment.” He sits down in the chair next to the bed, still holding my hand.
I wonder if he has been holding it even when I was asleep.
“Clarifying how?” I ask, squeezing it harder.
“Well, when you’re faced with your mortality and an uncertain future, you really start to think about the things you want and need.”
I didn’t know what I wanted before this, but have my needs changed?
“I don’t think I have been faced with my mortality. I think I’m the only one who hasn’t thought of this as a death sentence.”
“Well, maybe that’s why nothing has changed.”
Is that it? Or am I so dense that I can’t even come to a conclusion when facing down a life-altering event? If I really thought I should be with Charlie, wouldn’t this have prompted me to take the next step? I mean, what if I do die in this surgery? Is this how I want to go out?
I suddenly have the strong urge to call him into this room and end things. The idea of dying in this in-between is unsettling.
I shake my head and rub my face.
“What?” My dad removes my hand and turns my chin so that I’m facing him.
“Nothing, just nothing.”
