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Your body is faulty.
Damaged goods.
And it doesn’t want a baby in it.
You know this.
It’s already gotten rid of four babies.
I heave, and this time I vomit. Then the tears fall and I collapse to the floor while hugging the toilet in case I need it again.
I don’t know how long I sit here and cry. By the time Winter finds me, I’ve curled into the foetal position and am a sobbing mess.
“Fuck,” he says as his strong arms come around me and lift me. He carries me into the bedroom and sits on the bed, holding me tightly to him. He doesn’t say anything, but rather strokes my hair to calm me.
When my tears subside enough for me to talk, I look at him. “Andrea had a miscarriage.” The words splinter from me, as broken as I feel.
After all these years together, and all the heartbreak we’ve suffered together, Winter knows how my mind works. “We’re gonna be okay, Birdie. Our baby is gonna be okay.”
I stare at him, wanting desperately to believe him. “I wish I believed that as much as you do.”
His eyes search mine, the love he has for me blazing from them. “I’ll believe it enough for both of us.”
I take hold of his face. “I love you.”
He brings his lips to mine and kisses me. “You wanna stay in here for a while?”
“Yes. With you.”
He repositions us and spoons me. His arms always provide the refuge I need from the world. From the ache that never leaves my chest.
“I was thinking we might head to IKEA next weekend,” he says after a while. “Check out furniture for the nursery.”
I still. We haven’t talked about setting up a nursery since my first pregnancy about a year into IVF. That time, we got as far as buying a cot. When I miscarried at thirteen weeks, I made him get rid of the cot. The second time we fell pregnant, I miscarried much earlier at seven weeks and neither of us got the chance to even consider baby items. “No, it’s too soon,” I say.
His arms tighten around me, like he’s readying to stop me leaving. I know what he’s doing; he’s going to try to force this on me. I won’t be having anything to do with it, though. I know my own mental health and it’s nowhere near ready for this. “I didn’t say anything about buying stuff yet. I just said we could check it out.”
“It’s too soon for that, too.” Panic rises in my chest. He needs to stop talking about this. “Besides, we haven’t worked out our budget for this yet.” Our finances are stretched to the max thanks to the cost of IVF.
Winter turns silent. I wish I knew his thoughts because the silence that sits between us some days steals my breath. When he gives them to me now, they really do suck the oxygen from me. “I need this, Birdie.” Winter pretty much never asks for what he needs. He’s all about giving, and taking care of others. Taking care of me. Especially of me.
I wiggle in his arms so I can face him. The torment in his eyes slays me. Even the strongest men have demons that bring them to their knees. “You need to make plans for the nursery?”
“I need to stop standing still and that’s what this feels like. Fuck, it feels like we’ve been standing still for years.”
My breathing slows. I don’t know what he’s saying here, but I’m fairly sure this isn’t just about baby furniture. “What do you mean?”
“Seven years of waiting for the next part of our lives is a long fucking time.”
“But we’re not waiting. We’re doing stuff to make it happen.”
“Mostly we’re waiting. And I’m okay with that, because I want this baby as much as you do, but we’re pregnant now and I want to prepare for our child.”
I know Winter struggles with IVF, with the fact he can’t fix the problem we have. My man’s strength is that he solves problems; this journey has frustrated that part of him. He does need this, and so I need to figure out a way to give it to him because he gives me the world even when it must be the hardest thing for him to do.
Swallowing down my fear, I nod. “Okay, let’s go look at baby furniture.”
There are a lot of things I’ve wanted over the last seven years. I’ve wanted to give up. I’ve wanted to quit the needles, the pills, the prodding, the poking, the blood tests, the procedures. I’ve wanted to cry myself to sleep more times than I can count. But the one thing I’ve never wanted was to do any of this without Winter by my side.
