Clay #2
“Well, this isn’t what I envisioned for us. This isn’t my mom talking. This is me talking. I’m telling you this. I’ve already told you this. We fight so much already when that’s the last thing we ever did before we started this.
“All this is happening, and we haven’t even gotten anything in return.
All we’ve gotten are injections, hormones, my crazy mood swings, medications, and disappointment.
This isn’t a guarantee, Clay. It’s too much for me.
Don’t you get that? And to do all that and end up exactly where we are right now?
I just can’t. You deserve more, and I can’t give it to you.
” The determination to convince herself of this nonsense is evident in her tone.
“I want you. That’s all I’ve ever needed. Whatever else comes after having you by my side is just a bonus.” I grab her hand, and she lets me touch her this time. I bring her fingers to my lips and hope that she can feel how much I love her with my touch.
For a minute I think I’m reaching her, her eyes softening as she feels my skin against her fingertips. But determination quickly takes over like a force as the walls are rebuilt behind her gaze.
“No, Clay. I can’t ask that of you. And I just can’t do this again and again.
You say this now, but one day, it won’t be enough.
I won’t be enough. I can’t live a life I didn’t envision for myself or for you.
You’re wasting your best years on someone who can’t give you more.
And it kills me to know I want this so much, and I can’t make it happen for either of us.
” She pulls her hand out of my grasp and starts to walk toward the front door.
“Come on, Abby. You can’t just walk away.” I follow behind her. She pauses when she sees the coffee at the table but continues to the front door, opening her purse and making sure she has everything.
“I have no other options, Clay. I love you. But that’s not the problem, is it?
If it were an issue of love, we’d be set.
We’d have enough of that to last us a lifetime.
We’d have tomorrow and the next day and all the days after because our love is so strong, it would carry us through the hardest of times.
“But now I can’t ignore the hole this has left in my heart.
I’m not the same Abby you married. I’m damaged.
I guess I’ve always been damaged, but I had no idea.
The pain is filtering into all parts of me, Clay.
I can’t let you stay with me and let the resentment follow along as the dreaded enemy that’s bound to get between us. ”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to speak for me and let what we’ve built go?” I can hear my tone get harder, and it’s difficult to control.
Abby and I rarely fought before all the fertility struggles came to light, although in the last few months, I’d say we’ve gotten more accustomed to it.
But every couple goes through highs and lows.
I can’t expect each day to be a walk in the park, but I honestly never thought this would be what lies ahead.
“We built our marriage on the idea that we would house a ton of kids, and now that dream is shattered,” she cries out, and the anguish she holds breaks me even more.
“But, Abby, it’s not completely out of the question.
Dr. Levi told us she has had patients with the same diagnosis, and they came out with children of their own.
We’ve got surrogacy and adoption as possibilities too.
So, it’s not like we can’t ever have children.
” I can hear the desperation in my tone, and it’s hard to let go of it.
I’m desperate to keep her home, to keep her from making a huge mistake. If she leaves, I know getting her to come back is something that will be nearly impossible.
“Clay, no!” Abby shouts. The moment she raises her voice, I’m stunned. Abby has never shouted at me. In all the years I’ve known her, I have never heard her speak this way. Like all the months of frustration have been bottled up, and she’s hit her breaking point.
“Don’t you get it? I’m done. We’re done.
This is over. My body—it’s broken. I’m broken.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this to you.
And I can’t do this to me. Not anymore. When we try each month, Clay, it guts me when we fail.
Do you not get that? I feel like a failure.
I feel like I’m a useless person right now.
I don’t know how else to say that. I feel like my body is broken. I feel broken .
“So yes, I’m going back to California. I’m returning to the one place I’ve run from because my mom said she will welcome me and care for me.
I want to go back because this place I love is reminding me of pain and failure.
It’s reminding me of a life I can’t create!
” I can’t tell where her tears start and where they end.
She is sobbing, and my heart is completely shattered.
I move to embrace her, and she steps back.
“No, please don’t. I can’t. If you hold me, I’ll melt right back into you, and we’ll fall back into the same pattern again.
I’ve thought about it long and hard, and I cannot keep going through the motions, especially in this house.
I walk into our bathroom upstairs, and all I see is you figuring out where the next injection should go.
Or in our bedroom, where what started as fun became a chore,” that comparison stings to hear, “or down here, in that restroom, where we took pregnancy tests over and over again to only see one line instead of two.”
I’m about to protest, but she interrupts me.
“Don’t, Clay. Don’t say we will find a way.
Each corner of this house reminds me of what we are missing.
That spare bedroom is a screaming reminder.
Even with the office stuff in there and no baby materials sitting on the walls, I close my eyes, and that’s all I see.
I have felt such sadness over everything that won’t happen, and it’s destroying me, Clay. ”
She is pleading with me to understand something I can’t.
I don’t see each of those scenarios with the same eyes.
My perspective is different; then again, I don’t feel the hormones the way she does firsthand.
The pain of the shots, the dream fading, or that dream dying out.
I simply see a challenge I want to overcome with the woman I love.
“We’ve got options. I just see a future with you, baby.
We can keep trying. We can take a break.
Like I said, we can try surrogacy or adoption.
It’s worth it so long as you’re with me.
” She’s still moving while I follow behind her, begging, and then she’s grabbing her bags and pulling up something on her phone.
“I get it. You see this last failed attempt as a challenge we can overcome, but you and I both know I’m saving us from having to face the uncomfortable, which was inevitably going to happen.”
“But, Abby, this isn’t what I want. Doesn’t that matter?” I’m watching her grab her things, and I’m rooted in place.
“That’s the thing, Clay. This is the hard part of it. I don’t think you’d ever leave. You’d suffer for as long as is needed, and as great as that sounds, it gets old. You’d get tired of it. We can’t keep fighting the inevitable. We will only drift apart anyway. So, I’m doing this for us.”
She’s moving her hand onto the doorknob, and I finally unglue myself from the place I’m standing.
“Hold on, so you’re going to California for a few weeks, then coming back?
Maybe after you get away a bit, we can find a new place.
Start fresh?” I know she just needs to recalibrate, and then we can figure out what we’ll do next.
She shakes her head. “No, Clay. You’re not understanding. I’m moving to California for good. That’s what I meant by permanently. I spoke to my parents, and they said I could move back home until I can get settled over there.”
“Are you serious?” I throw my hands up in the air. Her parents, especially her mom, never approved of us getting married. They were always against us dating, let alone getting married so young.
“I won’t fight you on most of the things we have. I packed a few items, but you can keep the rest. We just have to figure out the house,” she says, as if this is such an easy task.
“Seems you’ve thought of everything.” I feel the bitterness lace my words.
She may have figured everything out on her end, but I don’t know if I’ll ever figure out how to live a life where Abby Nichols isn’t by my side.