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“It’s the worst. I want to help, to make it all better, but I can’t. I think that’s the worst of it all. I’ve always been the one to make it all better, you know? As the oldest, they’ve come to me with everything from boy troubles to homework help. But this? I can’t fix this.”
“No, you can’t.”
We’re both quiet again. She stares down at her water, turning the glass in her hand as if it were the most interesting glass of water in the world.
“There are other things I can’t fix either,” she finally whispers. When her eyes find mine, they have tears in them. Tears that practically reach into my chest and squeeze my heart.
“What kinda things?”
Silence again. I can tell she’s gathering the courage she needs to say her piece.
“Do you remember when I told you there were things I wasn’t ready to tell you?” Her voice is shaky, but she’s trying so hard to be brave. She squares her shoulders and looks me in the eyes. Instead of answering her question, I nod.
“Well, there’s something I’ve known for some time now, and I’m not sure I’ve ever really dealt with it.”
“Okay,” I encourage.
“Can I ask you something first?” Again, I nod. “Do you want more kids?”
Her question throws me. It’s definitely not what I expected her to ask, that’s for sure. But she’s nervously awaiting my answer, so I give it to her. “Honestly, I’ve never really thought much about it? I mean, when I found out about Brielle, it was a bit of a surprise. She wasn’t planned, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t change it for anything.
“I guess the best way to answer the question is to say maybe. If the right woman came along, and she wanted kids, then yes. Would I be upset having more? Hell no. Brielle was a dream, even though it was tough parenting by myself. But if I didn’t have more, I’d be just fine.”
“What if you couldn’t have more?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“What do you mean? Me personally or me as in me and the woman I love?” It seems so easy to say the words, even though I haven’t actually said them to her yet.
“You and the woman you…love.” She looks pained to repeat my words.
“Well, if it couldn’t happen, I guess then the decision is made for us, right?”
“What if you wanted them and the woman you loved wanted them, but she couldn’t have them?” The tears start to fall, and I’m unable to stay seated any longer. She looks so defeated, so dejected, and so fucking heartbroken.
“Tell me,” I whisper as I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my lap. Her hands shake as she grips my shirt, clinging to me for strength.
“I can’t have kids. I was diagnosed with PCOS when I was in my early twenties.” I try to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but more fall just as quickly.
“What’s PCOS?”
She pulls back, her hands still locked on the front of my shirt. Swallowing hard, she tells me. “It stands for polycystic ovary syndrome. I have irregular periods, which causes abnormal ovarian function, or so the doctor said. Basically, I don’t ovulate right. Because of this, the chances of me actually getting pregnant on my own are slim to none.”
“On your own?”
“Well, there are injections of drugs that could help, but it’s not guaranteed. There’s also IVF, but I’d have to go to a bigger city for that. It’s not offered in Jupiter Bay, not to mention that it’s not covered by insurance. Plus, there’s the fact that I’m approaching thirty-five which is practically a death sentence for women with PCOS and their ability to conceive on their own.”
She continues to cry, and I finally see it. She’s not just saddened by the news, she’s mourning her ability to have kids. My beautiful, strong Payton has been sitting on this piece of information for years, and if I had to guess, hasn’t shared it with anyone. She has let it continue to eat away at her until she was drowning in it. That thought breaks my damn heart.
“Does this PCOS thing affect anything else?”
“Well, it can cause hormonal issues, things like facial hair or hair in other gross places, stuff like that. And cysts on my ovaries and uterus, but the ones I’ve had thus far haven’t been much of an issue.”
“Okay,” I say, taking in everything she’s told me. “So your big hang-up is…” I leave it open-ended, so she can clarify and just say the words she needs to say.
“I can’t have kids!” she proclaims, louder than I think she realizes. “And who wants to be with a woman who can’t give him an heir?” Again, the tears start to fall ripping at my heart.
“So this is why you’ve distanced yourself from me? This is why you didn’t want to get close to me or anyone else? You think I won’t want to be with you because you can’t provide me with an heir?”
“Of course I think that! Cole didn’t want to be with me, so why would anyone else?”
My blood runs cold. “What?”
Taking a deep breath, she tells me about her ex. “Cole and I had dated for a while. I had always had irregular periods, and when I mentioned it to my doctor, he wanted to do a pelvic exam and scheduled an ultrasound and some blood work. After, he explained what he found and told me it would be very difficult, if not impossible for me to get pregnant. Okay, he didn’t say impossible, because even with PCOS, there is a rare chance, but it was basically like being told I’d never have kids.
“I was really upset when I found out. I mean, I had always wanted kids. I saw myself as a mother, you know? When my doctor told me that, it felt like it was stripped away from me. I was devastated. Cole was upset, too. He wanted kids. Hell, we’d talked about it, but after everything was said and done, there was nothing left for him with me.”
“That’s bullshit,” I tell her with a vengeance I wasn’t expecting. “That’s complete, utter, unacceptable bullshit.”
She looks at me with shock in her gorgeous green eyes, but I’m not going to stop now.
She needs to hear what I have to say.
