Dale
“You’re looking beautiful this morning, sweetheart.”
Sadie smiles sadly at me and slides a piece of toast onto my plate. Truthfully, Sadie looks like she hasn’t slept in days. There are dark smudges under her eyes and she looks seems a million miles away. She hasn’t even changed out of her robe yet. Normally, she’s up before me, dressed and humming while she cooks breakfast. This pale version of Sadie has me worried.
“So, Carter’s bus will be in just after lunch today. You sure you don’t want me to come home early so I can pick him up?”
“What’s wrong, afraid I won’t recognize him?” Sadie jokes.
Good, I like to hear her joking. I want her smiling and laughing. All I’ve ever wanted for my Sadie is for her to be happy. It’s why I built her a studio, insisted she concentrate on her art, even when she was worried about contributing to the household. She’s always been like that, worrying about everyone else.
“Okay. I’ll be home this afternoon then. I’m going to go ahead and get going.”
Sadie glances at the clock. “You going in early?” She slides into her chair, sipping at her morning fertility smoothie. I laughed at her when she first started drinking them; bee jelly, wheatgrass, and I don’t know what else she puts in them. Looks like a glass of blended lawn clippings but she drinks them every morning. And makes sure I get extra protein at every meal.
I shove a forkful of eggs and toast into my mouth. “Got some reports to turn in,” I mumble around my breakfast. I hate lying to Sadie.
I jump up, grab my keys, and drop a kiss onto the top of her head. “See you this afternoon, baby. I love you.”
She’d usually tell me she loves me too but this morning she doesn’t say anything. She’s staring into the bottom of her glass when I leave the room.
I know how much she wants a baby. She’s wanted one since the minute we got married. We’ve been trying all this time and nothing. Seeing the hurt and disappointment on her face every month when that little test shows up negative is eating away at me. And that’s why, instead of going into work early like I told Sadie I was, I’m headed to the urologist.
As I head towards the doctor’s office, I think about Carter coming home this afternoon. I can’t wait for Sadie to meet Carter. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, and who knows what his deployments in the Middle East have done to him, but he’s a good guy. Cocky, a little boisterous, but a good guy. And he looks just like me. I think Sadie will like him.
And I know he’ll love Sadie, too. Everybody does. She’s the sweetest, kindest girl I’ve ever met, and beautiful to boot. Everyone who meets Sadie is drawn to her warmth and gentle humor. I know I was. Still am.
Sooner than I’m ready for, I’m approaching the turn-off for the doctor’s office. I pull into the parking lot and slide my car into an empty spot. It’s early, there’s only one other car here. I tap at the steering wheel nervously, debate putting the car back into gear and just going on to work, but I’m here. I should do this. I snatch the key out of the ignition and head into the office.
A perky receptionist greets me, has me sign in, and directs me to have a seat. I sit in one of the hard plastic chairs, staring around the small waiting area that’s decorated with discount store art. Maybe I’ll suggest to the doc that she check out some of Sadie’s art. And what’s taking so long? I’m literally the only person here.
A few minutes later and a young medical assistant calls me back. She’s got a clipboard in her hand and looks harried already even though it’s barely past eight and there are no other patients that I can see. Instead of an exam room, the girl leads me into the doctor’s office and settles me into a leather chair to wait again. This time, I study the framed degrees hanging on the wall and the medical encyclopedias lined up on the shelf.
There’s a soft click as the door opens. “Morning, Mr. Martin.”
“Dr. Evans,” I nod my head.
Dr. Evans is small, slightly plump older woman with salt and pepper hair. Every time I see her, all I can think is how this woman, who is someone’s grandmother and looks like a friendly chipmunk, spends her days playing with penises. I stifle a laugh.
The doctor takes a seat on the other side of the desk and pulls on a pair of reading glasses that hang from a gold chain around her neck. She flips open my file and reads silently, nodding at a couple of things before turning her grandmotherly smile to me.
“So, we’ve checked you for fertility? I take it you and your wife are trying to conceive?” she asks.
I nod.
“Mm hmm, mm hmm. And she didn’t want to be here?”
“She doesn’t know I’m here,” I answer quietly.
“Oh.” The doctor peers at me over the top of her glasses. “Okay, well, we might as well get right to it.”
I nod, urging her to hurry. Now that I’m in the seat, I just want to know.
“We tested sperm count, motility, testosterone, prolactin, several other factors…”
“Yeah,” I nodded impatiently.
“And it appears that your count is very low, and those that you do have, are showing motility issues.” She looks up at me, as though she’s trying to judge if I’m getting what she’s saying. I know that a slow sperm count is not good, and motility issues definitely don’t sound good.
“But I should be able to get her pregnant…it’ll just take a while?”
The doctor sighs. “The results I’m looking at would suggest that would be very unlikely. The probability of you being able to impregnate your wife without intervention is very low.” She flipped the file closed and rested her hands on top. “And even with medical help, the chances of success would be very low.”
I swallow, the lump in my throat big. “Which, uh, do you know…why?”
She flips open the file again. “You had mumps when you were seventeen?”
I nod. It was pretty bad.
“So, when a man contracts mumps past the onset of puberty, the likelihood of developing complications due to testicular inflammation increases. It is rare, but it happens.”
I just nod and nod, my eyes on my lap, my fingers clutching at the arms of the chair.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Martin. I know it isn’t what you want to hear.” The doctors voice is sympathetic and kind but it grates. Nothing she can say at the point would make me feel any better. “Please,” she continues, “why don’t you come back with your wife? I can explain to her the…”
“No,” I cut her off, “thank you. For being so quick with the tests.” I stand up, fishing in my pocket for my keys. “Thank you,” I say again, my politeness so ingrained.
“Mr. Martin, I can give you the name of an excellent fertility specialist, there are other ways to have a child, you understand.” Her voice is still kind. “A couple’s therapist, perhaps?” She offers gently.
“Thank you for your time, doctor.” I open the door to her degree decorated office and let myself out.
My mind feels totally blank on the walk to the car and once I’m sitting inside I can’t find it in me to start up and go about my day. I stare at the side of the building my fists balled.
I can’t get Sadie pregnant.
I can’t get Sadie pregnant.
It’s what she wants, more than anything. All her hopes and dreams for her future are wrapped up in us doing this together and I’m never going to be able to give her the child she wants.
This is going to crush her.
I can’t stop myself from going to terrible places in my mind. Will she reject me? Decide I’m not enough man for her? Decide she can’t deal with a life without the children she’s wanted so much. Will she leave me? What if I’m not enough for her? Does she love me enough to stay, even without children? Would she leave for someone else who could get her pregnant?
The knot in my stomach is physically painful. My Sadie. The thought of her face when I tell her this…the thought of her not being there when I wake up in the morning. I can’t bear it.
But I have to.
I need to do a days work now. I need to bury all this until I can face what I need to do next. It isn’t fair to leave Sadie thinking that this is her fault. Every disappointed tear that she sheds is because of me.
I swallow down the lump in my throat and start the car, steering it away from the doctor’s office, toward work. As I drive, I can’t help but notice all kids. All the families. There’s a group of women gathered around a table outside a coffee shop, babies strapped to their chest. Some sort of mommy/baby exercise class going on in the park, and I have to stop for a crossing guard as she shuttles a line of kids across the road like baby ducks crossing a pond.
Sadie chose this neighborhood, in a small community just outside of Houston, and now I see why. The parks and playgrounds, the good schools, the mommy groups, the low crime rate, the small-town appeal of knowing all your neighbors. It’s the perfect town to raise a family in. So many of Sadie’s decisions are based on her plans for our children. The insistence on a four-bedroom home for the two of us, making sure that it was within walking distance of an elementary school and a park. Googling the quality of healthcare in town. Hell, she even drives a minivan! All that is missing is the little people.
From the very beginning, she’d been preparing the perfect place to raise her family. And now, with one little test result, I am going to completely destroy all those dreams.