“That’s good,” she says gently. “But at some point, you might need to have a conversation about what comes next. Just so you’re both on the same page.”
I nod, even though the thought of that conversation feels heavy.
“You’ll figure it out,” she says, pulling me back into a hug. “You and Mason are a team. And whatever happens, you’ll get through it together.”
I stay for another hour, talking about lighter things—school, Mason’s work, plans for the summer.
By the time I leave, the sun is starting to dip lower in the sky, and as I drive home, I can’t stop thinking about fertility clinics. About IVF. About adoption. And what that would look like for us.
By the time I pull into our driveway, it’s almost six. Mason’s truck isn’t there yet. I head inside, drop my purse on the counter, and kick off my shoes by the door. The house is too quiet.
I pour myself a glass of wine and sink onto the couch, pulling my laptop onto my lap.
For a minute, I just stare at the screen. Then I open a new tab and type:fertility clinics near me.
The results flood the screen—clinics in Fargo, Grand Forks, even one in Bismarck. Each one has glossy photos of smiling couples holding babies, testimonials about “miracles” and “answered prayers.”
I click on the first one.
Services Offered:
· Intrauterine Insemination (IUI)
· In Vitro Fertilization (IVF)
· Egg Freezing
· Donor Options
I scroll through the pages, reading about success rates and treatment plans and costs that make my stomach turn.
Fifteen thousand for one round of IVF. Maybe more if it doesn’t work the first time. But if it works…
I open another tab. Then another. Each clinic says basically the same thing:We can help. But it’s expensive. And there are no guarantees.
Still, it’s something. It’s a step forward. It’s not just sitting around waiting and hoping.
I’m so focused on the screen, scrolling through testimonials and success rates, that I don’t even hear that Mason’s come home until he’s standing a few feet away, uniform and all. He looks exhausted.
“Hey,” he says, his voice warm. “What are you looking at?”
“Hey.” I turn the laptop toward him, he sits. “Fertility clinics.”
His smile fades instantly. “What?”
“I went to see my mom today,” I explain, setting the laptop on the coffee table. “And I told her about us trying, and she told me she had three miscarriages before she had me.”
Mason’s expression softens. “I didn’t know that.”
“Neither did I.” I shake my head. “But she reminded me that there are other options. So I just thought about looking into it.”
He goes still, his jaw tightening just slightly.
“I know it’s expensive,” I continue quickly, gesturing to the laptop. “And I know it’s a lot to think about. But Mason, what if this is the answer? What if this is how we’re supposed to have a baby?”
“Megan—”
“Just look at the website,” I urge, pulling the laptop back toward me and clicking on one of the clinic pages. “They have really high success rates. And they offer payment plans. We could—”
