Life as It Should Be

“Life as It Should Be”

“Over here,” he says to his wife as they walk through the canned food aisle. He leans down to grab the cream of chicken.

“That’s the low sodium kind,” she says with some hesitation in her voice. “It won’t taste as good.”

Ben looks at it momentarily. “Oh, right,” he says. He quietly looks around and finds the right one. Just another thing he can’t seem to do right. He doesn’t dare say this out loud. After their argument in the car, he knows she’s not happy either. He puts the can in the basket. He avoids Sophia’s gaze.

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Just some sour cream and we’re done.”

With that, he starts walking to the dairy section. Not so far ahead that he’s trying to avoid her but not directly beside her either. This is stupid. Some far-off part of his brain tells him to turn around and tell her that he’s sorry; that he loves her and that of course it’s ok to be sad. The monotonous buzz of fluorescent lights induces an emotionless trance. He’ll tell her later. He just needs some time. At least that’s something they have.

They load the groceries in the trunk. The engine starts. Seatbelts click. The heat is turned on low to help a bitter autumn afternoon still seem beautiful, and they start for home. All the while, no words are spoken. Not so much out of anger, but of shame. They shouldn’t be fighting when all they have is each other. She isn’t pregnant. Again. It’s been a year. Well, thirteen months, but who’s counting? Today was a breaking point for Sophia when some close friends announced their pregnancy. They’d only gotten married five months ago. Initially, on their way to the store the news had been shared casually. By the time they had pulled into the lot outside the store, Sophia was in tears and Ben was smoldering from failing yet again to say the right things.

“So what if they’re pregnant? Five months is insane! We didn’t even try till way after that. We just need to keep being patient.” He’s confident she’ll get pregnant soon. They just need to keep up a strong front and hope that it will all work out. Why does she have to feel so sad? A year isn’t really that long when you think of it.

It’s been six months since the argument in the car. After consulting their family doctor, they’ve been referred to a specialist. The testing begins. Sophia has medical exam after medical exam. When they find out that everything is fine with her, Ben gets tested as well. The results come back normal. The doctor consults the results in a white folder, as the couple sits anxiously in front of him, awaiting a verdict. An answer to this problem. The doctor removes her reading glasses and looks first to Sophia and then to Ben, an encouraging smile on her face.

“It seems that everything is working as it should,” she says. The couple squirms uncomfortably in their chairs. She continues, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but I would actually take this as a good sign. You’re both young and healthy and I have a good feeling that with some more time you will have success.”

She doesn’t measure time the same way they do. A year and a half has been month after month of negative tests. That whole time their doubts go to war with their hopes. We’re still not pregnant. Will this ever happen? What aren’t we doing right?

Sometimes the hum of battle is quiet, like when they’re laughing together at a show or spending time in the woods near their home, taking in the vastness of the world. Even work is a welcome distraction. The battle rages right after things like family get-togethers. There are always children crawling, toddling and running around. Our baby could be this many months old by now, they think.

Ben and Sophia ask her questions about other methods like “IUI” or “IVF”. Both are costly, but they’re beginning to see them as the only possibilities. Ultimately the choice is theirs, but she encourages them to try a bit longer using the fertility medication she’s prescribed. She really does think their chances are good. As they’re leaving the clinic they look at each other. He can see it in her eyes. The doctor’s words are a salve for now. On their way out they see other couples walking past on their pilgrimage for answers. Sophia wonders if these people will receive more or less hope than them.

⤝ ⤞

Five years have passed since their visit with the specialist. The leaves transition once again to their rich colors and fall to the ground. They crunch under foot as Ben makes his way home from work. He sees his wife’s shoes already on the rug.

“Honey?” he calls out.

“I’m in the bathroom,” she says.

There’s something about her voice and he knows it’s off. A slight quavering. He exhales in preparation to console her. As time has a habit of doing, the years have been a blink but also an eternity. It’s been filled with more friends and family welcoming their own children into the world, all the while Sophia and Ben trying to figure out their place in it all. They had both been doing well these past months. Fewer tears and more focus on other aspects of life. Not getting bogged down by what they don’t have and instead focusing on enjoying life in the now. Trips to the mountains. Time with family. It was a delicate tightrope walk across an endless gulf. It was only a matter of time before one of them looked down.

He climbs the stairs, now resolved to hold her for as long as she needs. He works on this daily. To understand that she feels despair differently and to acknowledge it. He follows the light from the bathroom and sees Sophia in the reflection of the mirror. Yes, there are the tears. He follows their path down to lips that are curled upwards. Ben stops. Confused, he watches as his wife turns to face him in the hallway. In her hands, a pregnancy test.

“Hi,” she says.

“...Hi,” he says. It’s almost a question.

“I’ve been late these past two weeks,” she says. “I know I’ve been late before and this time I really wanted to wait and see. I’m sorry for not telling.” Her grin splits into a massive smile as she holds out her hand. He takes the stick with two little lines on the display. Two lines. Not one.

“Wha–?” he trails off.

“I’m pregnant!” she screams. He hugs her tightly after the shock wears off, then she chuckles quietly in his ear.

“Ummm, I was also a little anxious during the whole thing and forgot to put the cap back on. I peed on the part you’re holding.”

It’s been about two months and they’re at a family dinner on Sophia’s side. One of those regular things that the parents hold to get everyone together, catch up and see the grandchildren. The meal is over and everyone is in the living room chatting. Sophia looks out the window and smiles to herself. Everything around her is perfect right now. The flamelike frost that licks the edges of the windows holds her gaze as she thinks about everything that has led her to this point. She’s wanted to be a mother for as long as she could remember and now she gets to tell her family. She looks back at them and feels their laughter warm the room. Ben sits nearby talking with her brother-in-law about work. He looks at her and his eyes crease in a knowing smile while he listens to the brother-in-law go on about supply management or some such. Ben can’t wait much longer either. She nods to signal that this is the right moment and they get everyone’s attention. Her older sister wrangles her three small children into silence clearly understanding that this is important. An old man walking his dog hears whoops of joy coming from the nearby house and looks over in surprise.

“Something wonderful must be happening in there,” he says to his companion whose head is cocked in curiosity. The man laughs and the two continue on into the perfect night.

A week later, she miscarries. She lies in bed staring at the wall in front of her with puffy red eyes.

Miscarriage. What a horrible word, she thinks. It implies this was somehow her fault. It certainly wasn’t invented by a woman. She thinks of all the “mis” words that come to mind. Misunderstand. Mislead. Misplace. They are all things she is guilty of doing. No amount of comfort from others will convince her otherwise. She wishes she had never gotten pregnant. The sadness of never getting pregnant was a disability she could almost get used to. Terrible yes, but at least the status quo remained the same. Now she had been given the chance to fly. To soar through the air, and not just for a day. For almost three months she experienced pure joy. But now her wings have been torn from her and she pathetically crawls around staring at beautiful horizons she can never reach.

Ben has been different since it happened. Without a word he takes over all the housework. All the cooking, cleaning and laundry is done by him despite her protests. During her particularly intense bouts of crying, he climbs into bed and just holds her for as long as she needs. Without him there she isn’t sure how she could weather this. Days later Sophia wanders into the kitchen finally feeling the pull of hunger. Ben is at the table, head down in his arms. His shoulders rise and fall in time with muffled sobs. She’s never seen him like this. How often has this happened while she is in their room? He looks up and his face can’t hide his embarrassment. Not for crying, but for not relying on his wife like she wishes he had. This time she holds him, and they cry together for some time.

The snow melts off the eaves and runs down the spouts. It sounds like rain, but the morning sun shines strongly for an early spring day. Ben gets up and makes some coffee. He sits for a while on the couch, scrolling on his phone. Eventually the rich, nutty smell draws Sophia to the kitchen. She pours herself a cup and joins him on the couch. Things are different. Maybe one could call them better. At least it wasn’t like it was before. The two of them now fill their lives with work and other activities. They’ve almost settled back into that familiar pain.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says. “I’m ready to try again.” Ben stares at his coffee. “Are you not?” she asks.

He takes an even breath. “I don’t know if I’m ready for it to not work again.” They can hear children playing outside on their otherwise quiet street.

“So how long should we wait?” she asks. Her question comes quickly. A slight sharpness to her voice. They’ve had this conversation unofficially several times in the past month or so. This has been a long time coming.

“I don’t know,” he says. His voice remains even. “What if this never happens? What if all this hoping and waiting is for us to not have a family?” His question is the one they avoid. It’s a shadow of possibility she always feels in the corner of her mind; willing itself to be acknowledged. And yet? Admitting that it’s over and that there is no hope isn’t something she can do yet.

“We have other options,” she says. “The other procedures are really successful. The clinic says we can start with preliminary testing right away to find out what works best for us.” His head bobs up and down while he stares at his coffee. She sets down her mug and takes his hands.

“I know you’re scared.” she says. Since that time at the kitchen table Ben has gotten better at coming to her when needed. Now, she sees a single tear stream down his cheek. This is an older Ben than the one she married. She sees it in his eyes. Yes, they are still young but almost eight years of marriage has worn the shine off that ‘new life together with endless possibilities.’ How long is she prepared to do this? A question she is finally asking herself seriously.

He meets her eyes. “I want us to be parents so badly,” he says. “I see you with our nieces and nephews and I know that you’d be amazing at it. I just don’t want to put you through more tragedy. More loss.” Another moment in silence and he continues. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Sophia pulls away slowly but not in anger. She looks out the window and sees the neighborhood kids go by their house. One speeds away on a scooter while the others try and chase him down, all the while laughing. Scenes like these have always been an emotional mirror throughout their marriage. When they first started trying for a family, their joy and anticipation at the prospect of having children running and playing was almost palpable. It was the ‘typical’ reaction to have. As time wore on, the sight of children and their families just made them angry or sad. In some cases, it was so intense they needed to get up and physically leave the room. It was a rollercoaster through the years, and they couldn’t get off. As she now watches the children outside, how does she feel? This time something different is evoked by their play. Not so much reckless hope or despair. It feels like resolve. Resolve to what end she doesn’t know, but if feels more sturdy and lasting than anything else before.

Ben follows her gaze out the window and exhales quickly, as close to a chuckle that he can muster right now.

“We can’t escape it can we?” he asks. They watch the children play for a moment longer. “No matter how much I want to bury my head and move on, I’ll never stop wondering what could have been if we didn’t try everything. No matter what happens.” She looks back at him and smiles, her eyes searching. Ben leans in and holds his wife. “I’m ready too,” he says.

A few years pass and something happens to them that they did not expect. She does not get pregnant. But hope, it turns out, is a very hard thing to kill. They try intrauterine insemination multiple times with no success. The doctors only offer an explanation that it might be due to a lower quality of eggs during these attempts. The doctors remain optimistic and suggest that in vitro fertilization is still an option. This way they can secure and use the best eggs she produces to increase their chances. They begin a round of IVF. The whole process is even more challenging with many trips out of town to the only nearby fertility clinic in the area. This time Sophia is almost five months along before another miscarriage. The baby girl has a malformation they couldn’t detect until it was too late.

Sophia had even started to feel her moving. Like tiny minnows in her belly, it meant to her that nothing could go wrong. The couple is nearly broken this time. Family surrounds these two people in a heroic attempt to save them from permanent despair.

Seasons ebb and flow along with their grief and something else unexpected happens. They are ok. They emerge from a chrysalis of tragedy as stronger, if not happier people. They throw themselves headlong into the lives of their family. Especially those of the children. They are there for every birthday, every sports game, recital and graduation. Sophia understands what her previous resolve now means - to be the kind of person she knows that motherhood would make her regardless of the situation.

More time passes before they feel that familiar pull. No matter how much they do to fill that hole, they know that they’re still not parents. One night at the table they’re chatting and laughing through a pointless debate on how to best load the dishwasher. The conversation trails off and Ben says what’s really been on his mind.

“I’ve been thinking about when we want to try again.” Sophia nods quickly. They can anticipate when the other will start this conversation and she’s ready.

“Are we sure this is the last time?” she asks. They realize how many years they have been trying and that at a certain point it needs to be done. Not for any medical or physical reason but just so that they can move forward with whatever life they would now lead. They agree here and now to move on after this no matter what.

They begin the final round of IVF and things start well. The embryo transfer is a success, and the pregnancy starts with the familiar cautious optimism. Being high risk, Sophia goes in for regularly scheduled ultrasounds to monitor the baby. At around the eleven-week mark, the doctor can tell them they are having a boy. The familiar joy floods them as they leave the radiology clinic. Very quickly it is offset with a sobering humility. They are scared to hope too much. They know how dangerous it can be.

Sophia approaches six months again and her anxiety is near unbearable. These days Ben is constantly running around the house doing mundane tasks that Sophia insists she can do herself.

“The doctor never said I was confined to my bed,” she complains as Ben reaches high up in the cupboard for a jug she was grasping at on tiptoes. She had been dragging a chair over for a second attempt.

“I know that. I was already in the kitchen, so no big deal.”

She narrows her eyes at him and moves to sit down. He starts and rushes over to help her make the two-foot trip to the chair. He stands by the chair, hands braced as if he were ready to move a piano. She looks at him with mouth open until he winks. She smirks and swats him away, sitting down. They take the moment to laugh because it feels better than admitting how nervous they are.

The six-month mark comes and goes with no issues. Their baby boy continues to grow but the radiologist notes that the baby’s growth has slowed slightly. Sophia’s OB/GYN tells her it’s nothing to be alarmed about but that they’ll be paying close attention to it as they proceed with weekly follow ups. No amount of reassurance at this point can calm them as they walk to the car.

The parking lot at the clinic borders a large park. They sit in the car and watch as a couple around their age walks hand in hand down the path. Jackets are zipped up all the way up to fend off a chilly spring afternoon. Ben knows his wife is idly wondering the same thing. Do they have kids? Are they happy because they don’t have kids? Or maybe they just don’t even think about kids at all. It’s a reflex they’ve formed through the years. He reminds himself that it doesn’t matter. Despite the cold the couple certainly looks happy. A quiet sniff draws his gaze. His wife is silently crying. He takes her hand and sits with her for a time. A gentle squeeze of reassurance gets her to look up.

“I can’t handle this,” she says. “If he dies, I think I’ll die right along with him.”

He nods slowly. They said they could do this again no matter what, but that was to face the trials they already knew. They’ve never come this far. A child has never been this close to being in their arms. They had even allowed themselves to start buying clothing. There was already a crib set up in the room next to theirs. This loss would be different than anything they’ve faced before. It was another blind step into this endless void of tragedy.

“You know what I love about us?” he says. “No matter what happens, we have never once blamed each other. There’s never been resentment or distance between us. Every time we’ve lost, we’ve come out stronger for it.” He lifts her chin, and their eyes meet. “What we’ve built cannot be broken. It can be battered and there are days when parts need to be patched, but it’s too big and important to stop caring for it. When we lose something or someone, we take shelter in what we know. You and I are a family. This baby is a part of our family. The others we’ve lost are our family. If the worst happens and we lose our boy…” he hesitates. This is the truth they need to hear, and they need to believe it. That is why it’s so hard to say now.

He continues, “If the worst happens to him, we will be alright. We will be alright because he needs us to be.” Tears glisten on her cheeks and a smile creeps up as she nods. Hugging in a car when you’re eight months pregnant is difficult so she leans forward and their foreheads rest against each other. They laugh at the awkward gesture.

“I love you,” she says finally.

He smiles. “I love you too.” He can feel the tension melt out of her and for this moment things are ok again. The engine starts. Seatbelts click. Sophia stares out the window as the car leaves the lot.

“So, I’m excited about our metaphorical love fortress,” she says. “I’ve always wanted one.” He groans as they get back on the road home.

It’s been a week since their talk in the car and things have been operating at a manageable level of anxiety and excitement. Sophia has had another ultrasound and the baby’s initial decline seems to have smoothed out. Today she is at a park near her sister’s home. The two of them chat lazily on a bench while the kids chase each other on the playground. The spring air is perfect. It’s warm, and the heavy perfume of nearby lilacs envelopes them, threatening an impromptu nap. The sun is always barely peeking through tufts of billowing white clouds. Bright and clear, you realize you could stay outside for hours and feel like it was your own living room.

Ben is at the mall picking up a gift he’s sure Sophia will love. He holds up the necklace, and the lights from the jewelry store displays glimmer off the small emerald set into the pendant. His son’s birth stone. It just felt right when the idea came to him. He’s lucky the due date is the middle of the month. Easy to pick the right stone. He pays for the necklace and wanders around the mall with the time he has left on his lunch break. His phone rings. His sister-in-law on the other end speaks quickly. He stops.

“The hospital?” His brain fails to suppress a rising panic as he hears the words “early labor” and “emergency surgery”. He hangs up and starts running through the mall towards his car. He needs to be there for his wife. He can’t not be there. The engine starts. Seatbelt clicks.

Sophia watches bright lights streak her vision as she’s wheeled down a hospital hallway. Her fingers grip the railings tightly as another contraction crashes into her. She’s still processing the new information. “Baby’s heart rate is dropping”, “Need to get him out now”, “We’re going to take care of you”.

Her sister, wearing a cap and gown, follows alongside the stretcher into the surgical suite.

“Where is he?” Sophia says. She lifts her head weakly expecting to find Ben as she looks around.

Her sister gently coaxes her head back down. “I just called him and he’s on his way.” Sophia frowns but nods. Immediately the nurses swoop in and give Sophia instructions to move her onto the surgical table. A quiet flurry of people surrounds her. The stark contrast of her rising fear against the calm and quiet manner of the medical team only confuses her. She knows the anesthetic has kicked in because she can feel tugging and pushing on the other side of the erected barrier, but no pain to accompany it.

She spends years reliving all the pregnancy failures of the past though she knows it has only been minutes. Her sister sits by her head while the medical team works. She doesn’t know what to say in way of comfort right now, so she just strokes her head and holds her hand tightly. Tiny rivulets of tears cut their way down Sophia’s temples and onto the table.

“Please, let my baby be ok,” she whispers to anyone who might be listening. Metal clinks are heard among the now quiet murmurs of the surgical team, and then…a tiny cry blooms above it all. Sophia looks to her sister, eyes wide. A nurse comes around the corner holding the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“You have a baby boy,” the nurse announces.

Another lifetime passes as they do emergency checks and then someone finally brings over her baby boy who has stopped crying for the moment. Sophia, a mother, holds her baby close to her chest. Her heart is changed in an instant as it forms an invisible tether to her child. She will always be there for him.

The moment together is brief. The baby is taken to another examination room where they have to run more tests and her sister promises to stay with him. They finish up with Sophia in surgery and she’s wheeled to recovery. She lies on a stretcher surrounded by curtains. This space is temporary while a nurse remains beside her for monitoring. The nurse scratches information onto a chart.

“Would it be possible to get my phone?” Sophia asks.

“Oh yes of course. We’ll track that down right away.” The nurse wanders off, though she can’t tell if it’s to find her belongings or to do some other tasks.

Minutes stretch by. Her hands have begun shaking ever so slightly. She’s told it’s from the anesthetic, though it seems to come from somewhere else deep inside. Eventually the nurse comes back empty handed.

“We’re ready to take you to your room if you’d like and you can see your baby.” she says. Her heart leaps at the chance to hold him. Moments later she’s in her new room and her sister attends the staff as they wheel in her boy. He remains asleep as they transfer him gently into her arms. Her breathing slows and her shaking subsides. Peace. She can hardly believe this is real. She waits a few minutes. Her eyes find her sister’s, brow furrowed.

“Where is he? He should be here by now.” Her sister shrugs but pulls out her phone. No messages. Sophia’s chest begins to tighten but she turns in alarm as she hears a knock at the open door.

A police officer stands there. His bulky frame almost fills the doorway. Despite his size his hands are clasped together at his front almost in reverence as he nods solemn greeting. It almost looks silly. How did Sophia not hear him? She’s immediately bothered by how out of place he seems. Stiff trousers and shirt with a thick vest. Tools hang from his belt that have little to do with preserving life. Sophia’s head starts shaking before the officer can open his mouth. This man is a reaper of death, come to take something. The officer sees the baby in Sophia’s arms and his shoulders tense. He opens his mouth and then hesitates. He doesn’t know how to proceed. He glides forward in slow motion and Sophia’s breathing speeds up.

The officer takes a seat as acquaintances are quickly and tersely made. Her sister wrings her hands as he explains the purpose of his visit. The words seem to reverberate off the hospital walls until they reach her ears. She knows the officer is still speaking but she can’t quite understand the words. She watches his hand go to his belt. Was he going to take her baby as well? Instead the officer pulls out a necklace. His voice fails to remain even.

“This was with him in the vehicle. It’s addressed to you.” He nods to her sister as he gets up. Eyes filled with regret; he exits the room. This man’s movements were so quiet and furtive you’d never guess the destruction he was forced to bring into the small room.

Sophia is immobilized as she holds her baby in one arm and the necklace in the other. She stares at the only way her husband can be here for this moment and she wants to scream. Her eyes catch the glint of the emerald and she falters.

“Why an emerald?” she thinks out loud. Her sister looks at her confused. Sophia’s mind is focussed on this simple riddle. She looks to her son still asleep in her arms. He is completely unaware of the tragic loss he’s suffered in only the first minutes of his life. Finally, it clicks for her as she lays the necklace across her swaddled boy. Tears begin to well and she wonders if she’ll be alright.