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“Great. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. Noah, if she needs anything to eat or drink, there’s a small cafeteria across the hall; help yourself.”
As soon as she leaves, Peyton sits up and grimaces a bit. I sit next to her, rubbing my hand up and down her back. “Five eggs. That’s good.”
She nods. “I wanted more.”
“I know, but we have five. That’s more than we had yesterday.”
Peyton nods again. “We haven’t talked about what to do if multiple eggs fertilize.”
“Well, we can definitely save them. Assuming this round is successful, we can do it again in two or three years.”
“What would you say if I told you I’d want to transfer all five?”
“I think you’re overthinking things here, babe. You’re only allowed to transfer two. So, if all five fertilize, we’ll freeze them and do this again. We don’t know how your body is going to react or if you’ll be able to carry. We haven’t made it that far yet. Trial and error, remember.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then we have the eggs for a surrogate.”
Her eyes fill instantly with tears. I pull her to me and remind myself it’s the hormones. She’s hopped on all these drugs to make the eggs. She knows the ins and outs, probably better than the staff.
“Tomorrow, we’ll know. Believe me, my guys are ready. This is their time to shine.”
Peyton laughs.
“And then in five days, they’ll put that little embryo in you, and it’ll do its thing. Nine months from now, you’ll scream at me, tell me you hate me, and blame me for all the pain you’re in. So, I’d like to point out now, technically I didn’t get you pregnant.” I hold my hands up in surrender.
“You’re such an ass.”
“I know.” I kiss her. “But I’m your ass and you can’t ever get rid of me.”
“I can’t even if I tried.”
“Rude. Your words wound me.”
She leans into me. “I need it to be tomorrow already.”
“I know. Me too.”
The call finally comes in around noon with the news that we have two fertilized eggs. Just enough for a transfer of two or we can try with one. This wasn’t the news Peyton wanted. Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel. The nurse told her the next few days would determine whether we come in on day five. The embryo needed to be blastocysts and if not, they’d have one extra day before all of this was for naught.
I stop paying attention to the call when Peyton breaks down in tears. She leaves her phone on the counter.
“Hey, sorry,” I say toward the speaker. “We’ll wait to hear from you in a couple of days.” I hang up figuring if it’s important they’ll call back. “Peyton.” I call her name throughout the house, and finally find her locked in our bathroom. “Babe.”
“Go away.”
“C’mon, that’s not fair, Peyton.”
“Life’s not fair, Noah.”
“You’re right. It’s not. And you’ve been dealt a shitty hand. We’re trying to make the best of it. We’re doing our best. Shutting me out isn’t going to help.”
“You don’t get it.”
“To some extent, I do, Peyton. Wanting a child is natural. It’s the natural progression in our relationship. Hell, I want you to carry my baby and it kills me inside that I haven’t been able to do the one thing you need me to do.” My throat tightens. I swallow the sob threatening to escape. I press my back into the door, I slide down and bring my knees up. “I see the tears when you think you’re hiding them. I see the calendar, the highlighted dates, and know when you’re sneaking out of bed to take a test. These things aren’t going unnoticed no matter how hard you try to hide them. Peyton, if I could, I’d go back and change things. I truly would. Not acting on my feelings when you turned eighteen has been my biggest regret. I let perception cloud my judgment and I feared what people would think. What the NFL and our parents would think, and I was wrong.”
My wife says nothing.
