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“Once we know Peyton’s pregnant. We want to have the babies as close together as possible.”
“Have you thought about the chance of multiples?”
“No, I’m just having one egg at a time deposited. I don’t want twins. They’re freaky,” she says as she cocks her eyebrow at her mom.
“Well, one’s a freak,” I mutter, and she throws her magazine at me.
“I’ll tell Peyton you went back to the porno room.”
I shake my head. “She’d never believe you. Besides we?—”
“Stop!” Katelyn demands. She looks at Elle, “You’re . . . I don’t even know but I’m telling your dad so he can talk to you because I can’t. And you,” she looks at me. “I’ve known you since before you even took a breath. Don’t talk about the things you do with my daughter.” Katelyn lets out a huff.
“Geez, Mom,” Elle says as she sulks.
I stifle a laugh. “You know your daughter and I are married, right?”
“Yep, I was there,” Katelyn says.
“And you know how babies are made?”
“Noah Michael Westbury . . .”
“Oh, you got your full name.” Elle continues with the childish antics by sticking her tongue out.
When my name’s called, it dawns on me that Elle did all of this to keep my mind off Peyton. I stand and take two steps before turning and going to my sister-in-law. I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Now go see our girl and come back with some damn good news.”
“I will.”
I follow the nurse down the hall to the recovery room. Each “room” is separated by a partition, giving the women some privacy. As soon as I see Peyton lying there, I’m by her side instantly.
“Hey,” I say as I brush my fingers through her hair.
“Hi.” Her voice is groggy, but nothing like it was after she woke up from the accident. My wife—the love of my life—had surgery while I was out of town for a game to remove scar tissue and only told her mom and sister because she didn’t want me to worry. While I appreciate her efforts, I wanted to shake the shit out of her, and I told her under no certain terms is she allowed to do that again. Something could’ve happened and I wouldn’t have been there.
“How do you feel?”
“I’m okay,” she says. They warned us she could have cramps or be queasy for the rest of the day. Such a bummer that we’ll go home, and I’ll have to spend the rest of the day pampering her.
“Do you have any cramps?”
“No, not at the moment.”
“Okay, well that’s good.”
The nurse comes in and hands me a paper bag. “Peyton has to stay for an hour and then she can leave. We’ve given her some Tylenol #3 with codeine for pain. Tonight, she needs to start taking Medrol and Progesterone, and then in five days we’ll do the transfer.”
Peyton smiles. “How many eggs did you get?”
“We got five,” she says. “The embryologists will prepare Noah’s sperm to fertilize your eggs. Tomorrow, we’ll call you and let you know how many of your eggs were mature and how many fertilized. Then on day three, we’ll give you an update on their progress. Day five is transfer day.”
“All right, seems easy enough.”
The nurse nodded. “Noah, you should know progesterone is a shot and we don’t recommend self-administration because it needs to be injected intramuscularly.”
“No problem,” I tell her. “Her uncle is a physical therapist and can do it for her.”
