Chapter 1
“Your uterus is empty,” Dr. Levausier gave me a pensive
look, as she removed the ultrasound wand and cleared off the last of the ice
cold gel from my stomach.
“I will not cry, I will not cry,” I repeated in my head, and
tried to will my tear ducts to cooperate. I had been here before, three times
previously to be exact, and crying did not help. The results were the same. I
had lost yet another baby. I almost made it to the second trimester this time,
but it just wasn’t meant to be.
“Would you like to talk to the psychiatrist? Maybe, we can
arrange some grief counseling. You know that you can try again, once you have
had three successful periods in a row,” Dr. Levausier rattled off the information like she was at an auction.
She has been my doctor since my first period at age 12, my first birth control
prescription at age 16, my first pelvic exam at age 18, and during all four of
my pregnancies, and subsequent miscarriages. So what seemed like a routine
script that she was following, was actually her ability to give sound medical
advice, while at the same time meet my emotional needs.
“I don’t think that I want to try again. I am 35. It’s
getting more risky with each passing year. The endometriosis is not getting
better, and I am tired. It’s just not meant to be.”
“You know there are other options: surrogacy, adoption,”
“I know my options,” I said, a little more forcefully than I
intended. “I’m sorry.”
“How long have you been my patient Denise? You know I don’t
take it personal. I know the type of pressure that you are under. I know how
badly you want to give your husband a child, and I understand the frustration.”
“I know you do, doc. My husband and I have everything: nice
home, great cars, wonderful friends and family, but a baby is the one thing
that alludes us.”
“Tell you what. Get dressed, and meet me in my office, and
we can discuss some of those other options. I know you are not too keen on
them, but there are ways for you to still have a child that is biologically
yours and your husbands.”
“I don’t know about the surrogacy thing. There have been too
many cases of things going wrong, and my husband is a pastor, so I don’t know
how that is going to gel with our Christian faith.”
“Denise, I understand all those concerns, but you want a
baby, and you want one that is biologically yours. With your endometriosis, and
advanced maternal age, surrogacy might be the only way to make that happen. I
am just being honest.”
“I know you are, and I certainly appreciate it. Okay, I will
at least hear what you have to say.”
Dr. Levausier exited
the room, and I slipped off the thin hospital gown and retrieved my blue and
gold maxi dress from the adjoining chair. This was my favorite “casual dress”,
and it was the only bright spot of this depressing day.
Once I was dressed, I
opened the exam room door and started to make my way down the hall to Dr.
Levausier’s office.
Before I had traveled more than 10 feet, one of her nurses,
Sheila, who also attended my husband’s church, stopped me in the hallway.
“Hey, First Lady Hall. I didn’t realize you had an
appointment today. I guess that explains why Pastor Hall called in and asked
for a copy of your ultrasound. I figured he probably wouldn’t be here today,
because he had that big trustee meeting, well, I can just give it to you, since
you will see him later anyway, and it will save him a trip.”
Sheila delivered all of this conversation without once
taking a breath. My mind was still racing regarding the news that I had just
received, so her motor mouth was the least of my concerns.
“Excuse me?” I only half uttered because my mind was off in
left field, thinking about the decisions that I had to make, if I was ever
going to be the biological mother to a child.
“I am sorry First Lady. You know how I like to go on and on.
My grandmother calls me the mouth of the South.”
“It’s okay Sheila. When did Darryl, I mean Pastor Hall call
for the ultrasound? “ I just thought that it was weird considered he knew that
I was threatening a miscarriage, knew there was probably going to be no baby.
Besides, I could easily bring home an ultrasound picture.
“This morning. He said today was a big day for you guys. You know with finding out the baby’s sex and
all. I am so happy for you guys. Although I must say that you don’t look four
months pregnant, must be all that yoga that you do.”
“Huh?” I was so puzzled right now, but unlike Sheila, I knew
when to keep my mouth shut, and my woman’s intuition was telling me that if I
stayed silent just a little longer, I would know everything that I needed to
know.
“Let me stop running my mouth and get you that ultrasound
picture. I am surprised Dr. Levausier didn’t give it to you. Oh well, you know
she is always juggling a thousand different things, but that is what happens
when you are such a great doctor as she is.”
“Sheila, the ultrasound picture please,”. I wanted to stop
her before she went off on another tangent, and I was very curious to get to
the bottom of what she was talking about, mistake or otherwise.
Sheila picked up a thick file folder and reached inside to
pull out the ultrasound picture. Without hesitation, she handed it over to me.
Sure enough, there was a fetus measuring 18wks, and 4 days,
with an area highlighted indicating that it was a boy. Baby Hall was scrolled across the top of the
picture with a pink sticky note. I lifted it up, and another name was scrolled
across the top. It wasn’t mine, which meant my husband had some serious
explaining to do.
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