Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Bang. His words are my official undoing.
“We’re not together because the day we got into that accident, I was pregnant! I was pregnant, and I didn’t tell you! I was going to tell you, but then everything happened, and I lost the baby, Clay!” I scream at the top of my lungs. The truth flies out into the open and takes up all of the space in the room. “Because I was too busy arguing with you about telling everyone at dinner that we were married and wasn’t paying enough attention, we got in an accident that almost killed you, and I lost our baby, Clay!”
“Josie.” His breath comes out in a harsh whoosh, as if my words just stole all the oxygen from his lungs.
“The miscarriage…” I whisper. “And complications from the accident. It caused ovarian torsion. I…I can’t have kids.” I just stand there, tears still running, and let the information soak into his mind.
“Josie,” he whispers my name again, and he reaches for my hand, but I can’t fathom his touch right now. It feels like it’ll shatter me. “I’m so sorry, Josie. I’m so sorry you went through that all by yourself.” He is crying now. “I…I can’t fucking believe you’ve been carrying all this for all this time by yourself.”
“Stop, Clay. Just stop.” I’m breaking down. Fat, thick tears consume my face. “I ruined everything. That’s why we got a divorce. Because I ruined everything.”
“It’s not your fault, Josie,” he says. “The accident. It wasn’t your fault.” I cry harder, and he just keeps saying it over and over. “It wasn’t your fault, Josie. It wasn’t your fault.”
His reaction is the opposite of what I’ve always expected. And it crumbles any resolve I have left. It forced open the wounds of my past, and I can’t keep it all locked up inside me anymore.
“The condom didn’t matter because I can’t have kids, Clay,” I repeat, saying it as much for myself as it is for him. I need something, anything, to put myself back at a distance. It doesn’t work. “I should’ve gone to the doctor sooner, but I didn’t. I waited. I waited too long.” I have to stop when more sobs bubble up through my throat, and Clay steps forward to place a hand on my back. I let him this time.
My knees buckle, and Clay helps me sit down in one of the chairs by the mirror. Memories of my follow-up appointment with Dr. Norrows race around in my head. I was in a lot of pain that day, but I figured it was because I was still actively miscarrying. Still actively bleeding.
In reality, I was in the middle of a medical emergency. I had to have emergency laparoscopic surgery because cysts on my ovaries had caused them to twist in on themselves. Dr. Norrows had said it was common to get ovarian cysts during pregnancy, but it was usually just one ovary and they usually resolve on their own. But I am one of those very rare few who had cysts on both ovaries that didn’t resolve and ended up progressing into a condition called ovarian torsion.
My left ovary was removed, and my right ovary wasn’t in great shape. Dr. Norrows said the odds of me having kids after that were highly unlikely.
“The doctor had to remove one of my ovaries, and the other one that’s left won’t be able to release eggs anymore.” I don’t sugarcoat it like Dr. Norrows did all those years ago after the surgery. I don’t tell him that I could try to do IVF with someone else’s egg but there’s no guarantee, and also, because it’s not something I would ever want to do. I don’t tell him any of that because the last thing he needs to hear is that there is this tiny glimmer of hope that it’s possible. Because where would that leave us? Him holding on to some minuscule shred of hope that I can have babies? “I can’t have kids, Clay,” I whisper. “I can’t have kids.”
“Josie, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, sadness in his voice and tears still in his eyes. He lifts me back to my feet and wraps his arms around me, hugging me tightly to his chest. “You should have told me. You shouldn’t have carried this by yourself. You shouldn’t have carried any of this by yourself.”
Hearing him say that hurts. Because if he’s not angry and he’s not sure he wants kids and he still loves me…it was all for nothing.
I hug him tightly. I love this man. I’ve always loved this man. That was never the issue.
He leans back to meet my eyes, and when he moves his mouth to mine, I accept his kiss without hesitation. It’s masochistic to allow myself to have this moment that I know I’ll spend the rest of my life thinking about. But I can’t stop it.