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Oh God, what if I miscarry?
How will we keep affording IVF if we need to keep going back again and again?
“Birdie.” Winter’s hand lands on my thigh. “Stop thinking.”
I turn to him. “I can’t. Like seriously, my brain just won’t shut off.”
His gaze meets mine. “Talk to me. Tell me all your thoughts.”
I fan my face. “Jesus, it’s hot in here. Are you hot?”
He squeezes my thigh before reaching for my bottle of water. “Have a drink. It’s not hot; you’re panicking.”
He’s right. I am. After I drink some water, I say, “I feel sick. Like, I could throw up thinking about all the possibilities of what our life will look like after this test today. I just want to have a child and love that child.” My voice wobbles as I add, “It’s not too much to ask, is it? We’ll be good parents.”
“It’s not too much to ask. Let’s just get through this morning before worrying about the next step.”
“Why do you have to be so bloody practical all the time?”
He looks at me again, his amusement clear in his eyes. “One of us has to be.”
“Ugh.”
After he pulls into the clinic’s car park and parks the car, he curls his hand around my neck and pulls me close. “Whatever happens today, we’re going to be okay, angel.”
“I hope so,” I say softly.
“We’ve pulled through some rough shit, and if we have to do that again, we will. Together. Always fucking together.”
The fierceness in his words hits me in the chest. He’s right; we have pulled through some awful stuff in the past. I just need to cling to him if we get the worst news today.
Pressing my lips to his, I kiss him, showing him how much I love and appreciate him. Even if he is too damn practical for me sometimes. Smiling, I say, “Love, fight, battle, protect.” The Morrison way.
He returns my smile and nods. “Yeah.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go do this.”
The room spins as I fight for oxygen. Drawing breath in, though, is hard to do when you can’t focus enough on the process because every ounce of your being is completely focussed on processing news you never wanted to hear.
I’m not pregnant.
We failed IVF.
Oh my God, I’m going to pass out.
I can’t breathe.
I stare at the doctor. She’s speaking to Winter and me. I see her mouth moving, but I no longer hear anything coming out of it.
Winter’s hand crushes mine as he listens intently to what she says. He hasn’t let go of me since the moment we sat down across from her. At first, I welcomed the physical contact, but now I need to extricate myself from him.
I. Can’t. Breathe.
I need to get out of here.
When I try to pull my hand from his, Winter resists. Meeting my gaze, he frowns.
“I need to go,” I choke out, pleading with my eyes for him to let me go.
