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“Sure.”
“Great. I’ll just transfer you through to her.”
I head over to the vanity and grab my dressing gown from the back of the chair. I pull it on before going through to my bathroom. I clap my hands, turning the lights on, and pop the phone on speaker. I look like fucking shit.
My eyes are super dark, the bags under them more profound than they’ve been in a while. My hair is a mess from all the tossing and turning, and I just feel empty.
It’s different than when I take the sleeping tablets. Usually I’m groggy, although that effect has worn off a lot now compared to when I was first taking them, but this is just a dazed kind of energy.
I’m weeing when Dr Likens comes onto the line, and we get through our greetings before she hits me with the real reason she’s called.
“So, I wanted to touch base after getting your results back.”
“Is everything okay?”
“So, your ferritin levels are a little low, but you’re not at the stage where we’d class you as anaemic,” she says, and I nod slowly, even though she can’t see me.
Which is for the best, since I’m sitting on the toilet.
“We’ll keep a little eye on them, but, for now, I’d like you to try and incorporate more iron-rich foods into your diet,” she says, and I nod, making a mental note to let Orson know since he cooks most of our meals. “It’s common, though, especially during your menstrual cycle.”
“Okay.”
“How are you feeling after our talk yesterday?”
I sigh. “I don’t want to go on birth control. I don’t want to go back to being as ill as I was.”
“And that’s completely your decision,” she says gently. “If you ever wanted to try them, we could always attempt to combat the low moods with antidepressants, and we can always work with Dr Abbott on doing so.”
Treating low moods from my medication to alter my hormones by adding in another set of medication that messes up the chemicals within me.
Sounds healthy.
Is this really what women need to go through?
“Thank you.” I rub my cheeks. “My mates and I talked it out, and we all agree birth control is not the way forward for me right now.”
“Good. But, speaking of hormones, I do want to talk to you about your levels.” She pauses, but when I don’t ask, she continues anyway. “You’ve not hit the average levels in a few different areas, which makes me think it’s going to be extremely unlikely that you’re fertile during this heat cycle.”
“How unlikely?”
“Around three percent,” she says after a moment. “With the data we have, you’ve been quick to get your periods back, which is an amazing sign that your fertility won’t be affected permanently. But it seems you’re going to need at least one heat cycle to regulate yourself.”
Three percent chance of being fertile.
And then a however percent chance of getting pregnant.
It doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen.
I talked with George, and then my mates, and I’m confident that I didn’t want to try for a baby during this heat cycle. That I needed some time for myself to figure things out before adding a child into the mix.
So why am I so hurt? Why does my stomach ache as if I’m missing something I never had in the first place? Why is my wolf crying for the loss of a baby we never actually wanted?
“It seems your heat is likely going to happen within a week of your menstrual cycle ending. It’s pretty quick as far as cycles go, but I think you’ve got about two weeks from today in case any of your mates, or yourself, need to plan. I can provide medical exemptions for anyone working—”
“Um, that won’t be needed,” I say, thinking about something I want to bring up with George later. “At least not for me. Atticus runs the company, and Malachi and Micah will be granted the time off easily. Griffin might need one, but I’m not sure.”
“If he does, just call reception, and Gemma will be able to get one.”
