12. Shattered Dreams
Chapter 12
Shattered Dreams
Lila
I walk into Dr. Vincent’s office, a smile plastered on my face. He returns it, adjusting the glasses that are perched on the bridge of his nose.
“Good morning, Dr. Vincent,” I greet warmly, pulling back the seat across from his and making myself comfortable in it.
“Good morning, Lila. How are you today?” he asks, eyes still focused on the paperwork he has in front of him.
“I’m good, but I’ll be better once I get my results.” No matter how many times I do these tests, my reaction is tense. Sitting on the edge of my seat, I tap my feet repeatedly, the sound of my heels clacking against the granite flooring of Dr. Vincent’s office.
Deep down, I know everything is fine, yet my heart still races, and my hands tremble while I wait to receive the results. It’s a feeling I should’ve gotten used to by now, yet I haven’t.
“Ah, yes. I have it here somewhere. Just one moment,” Dr. Vincent responds, scribbling something down. A moment later, he shuffles through a stack of envelopes he pulled from his drawer, stopping on the one that has my name.
“As expected, everything looks good. Your bloodwork, blood pressure, thyroid, vitamin levels, it all looks good. You, little lady, are a very healthy woman.” He smiles, sliding the envelope across to me.
A huge gust of air leaves my lungs. For the first time since I walked in here, I relax, my body sinking into the chair from the relief I feel.
“Thank you, Doc. I don’t know why I still get nervous about getting my results back from you. It’s always good news,” I chuckle, glancing through the test results.
“It’s understandable. Nothing is certain till the results come back,” he says softly.
He’s always been a very kind man.
“What did you decide about what we discussed the last time you were here?” he says, taking off his glasses. My brows furrow, lips puckered in concentration as I try to remember what it was that we discussed.
“What did we—”
“Lila,” he warns.
“What? I really don’t remember!”
“The tests?”
“Oh, right, the whole fertility testing thing,” I sigh. “I just don’t understand why I need to do that though. You just said yourself, I’m a very healthy woman,” I remind him.
“No one is arguing that you’re not healthy Lila, but fertility is something else entirely. It’s not something you can know unless you do very specific tests. You said you’d think about it,” he scolds gently.
“I have thought about it, and after these results, I don’t think I need it.”
“Lila,” he starts again. I roll my eyes, but it’s obvious he’s not going to let this go, so I might as well just do it.
“Okay, fine. I can see it’s the only way to get you off my back, so let’s do it.”
“It will definitely get me off your back.” He smiles. “We’re lucky to have Dr. Saint, one of the top fertility specialists in the country, on staff. Her office is just down the hallway.”
“I really don’t have all day; how much time do you think it’s going to take?” I ask, glancing at the silver watch that hangs from my wrist.
“Shouldn’t be too long. As luck would have it, I was talking to her earlier, and I know she has an opening on her calendar and can see you right away.”
“Fine. Let’s do it,” I shrug, already making my way out of my seat.
Dr. Vincent gives me an approving look and gets out of his seat too, escorting me out of his office. He leads me down a different hallway, knocking twice on a door that has the name ‘Dr. Pelumi Saint, Fertility Specialist’ etched into it.
Much like Dr. Vincent’s office, this one is painted white, with stark walls and white ceiling boards. A desk and set of chairs are on the far right of the room, a woman in a white coat sits behind it. She looks to be in her fifties, with kind eyes and a gentle smile.
“Dr. Saint,” Dr. Vincent greets her, leading me over to her desk.
“Dr. Vincent, good morning,” she responds with a warm smile, her curious eyes turning to me lurking behind him.
“This is that special patient of mine I told you about, Lila Smith.” Dr. Vincent gestures to me.
Oh, they’ve talked about me. Great.
“Based on her goals, I thought meeting with you would be an important step. You’re the best fertility specialist this hospital has, after all,” he smiles.
Dr. Saint returns his smile, glancing at me again.
“Please, sit. May I call you Lila?” she gestures to the vacant seats across the desk from her.
“Yes, Lila’s fine,” I respond.
“I need to get back to my office. Got another appointment in—” Dr. Vincent steals a glance at the clock above the door, “seven minutes. I’ll leave you ladies to it, but let me know how everything goes,” he says to me, and I nod, watching his retreating figure as he walks out of the office.
“I’m going to ask you a series of questions. Is that okay with you?” Dr. Saint asks with a gentle smile.
“Yes,” I nod.
“Great. So, Dr. Vincent mentioned that you want to have a family,” she says, picking up a new folder and scribbling some details into it.
“Yes, I’ve always dreamt of having kids. I had the best childhood any kid could ask for, and I’ve always wanted that for my own children,” I smile.
“That sounds lovely. Have you ever had any children?”
“No, but my family is very fertile, so I really don’t think there’s any reason for me to be here…but Dr. Vincent thinks at my age it’s something to look into.”
“Dr. Vincent’s right. A woman’s age is the biggest factor when it comes to fertility. Married?” She asks, continuing to scribble into her folder.
“No,” I respond slightly defensively, even though I know it’s a routine question. This is more a verdict on how I feel about the fact that at my age I’m still not married with kids.
“Are you planning on trying to get pregnant right away?” she asks.
Well, I would need to find a man first…
“No, not—exactly. I don’t have any plans for it this second, but hopefully soon…” I trail off with a shrug. She nods, jotting this down too.
“Just to confirm, how old are you?” she asks.
“I’m 39. I’ll be 40 in a few months.” She does her best to hide it, but I feel anxious at the slight change in her expression.
“I know I’m getting older,” I say defensively, “but I’ve always been healthy, and there have never been any infertility issues in my family.”
“That’s good to hear.” She smiles.
“I’m going to start with something called an Anti-Mullerian hormone test. The levels of AMH in your blood will give an indication of your remaining egg supply. Low levels can indicate a reduced egg reserve, which may affect fertility,” she explains. “The good news is that we have an incredibly advanced testing lab on site, so we’ll be able to get the results back pretty quickly, most likely within an hour or so.”
“Okay,” I say nonchalantly, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in my chest.
“Let’s get started, shall we?”
Between having my blood and urine samples taken, and waiting for the results, time seems to pass by very slowly. I sit in her office, watching her through the transparent glass wall that separates her office from the lab on the other side of it.
It seems like I’ve been waiting for days, but in reality, it’s been less than two hours when she finally comes back and takes a seat in front of me.
Finally! I can’t wait to get this over with.
“Lila, I have the results.” She pauses briefly, and something about her hesitation makes the hairs on the back of my neck start to lift.
“Unfortunately,” she continues slowly, “your AMH levels are very low. In fact, in my over three decades of doing fertility testing, it’s some of the lowest I’ve ever seen,” she says. “The reason it took a little longer is because I asked them to repeat it to be sure.”
My heart stops. Panic instantly shoots through my body.
What does that mean exactly?
“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but your egg levels are basically nonexistent. It most likely means the onset of early menopause.”
“What?” I whisper. Blood rushes to my head, heart pumping so fast it feels like it’s going to explode in my chest.
“I wish I had better news to tell you, Lila, but based on these results, it would take a miracle for you to get pregnant naturally, and unfortunately, women with very low AMH are also likely to have a poor ovarian response to stimulation during treatments like IVF. I’m so sorry to have to say this, but unfortunately you wouldn’t be a candidate for IVF either.”
The blood runs cold in my veins, freezing me in place.
Silence.
Utter silence.
Followed by a powerful ringing in my ears that is sending painful tremors straight into my brain.
This can’t be real.
“I—I don’t understand,” I breathe, my shaky voice less than a whisper. There’s a bitter taste of bile in my mouth.
She’s still talking.
I know she is.
I know this because I can see her mouth moving, but I can’t hear anything through the ringing in my ears.
My entire body starts to tremble.
One fat tear breaks free. It feels unreal, like I’m outside my own body, watching myself break down.
Her voice continues to form words, but I can’t understand what they mean.
The look on her face is forever burned into my memory. She must’ve had to break this news to plenty of women before, yet it’s hard for her to look me in my eyes.
This is really happening.
This doctor—she’s telling me that I will never carry a child of my own.
This is the only thing I’ve ever wanted in my life, and she’s telling me that I won’t be able to have it.
“I’m truly sorry, Lila. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear—it’s devastating, and it’s going to take time to process. But please, believe me when I say this doesn’t mean everything is over. It’s not the end of your journey, and it’s certainly not the end of your dream of becoming a mother. There are still paths we can explore, options we can discuss when you’re ready to take that next step...”
I look up at her in horror.
Options? Just an hour ago, I had only one option. Get pregnant and have my babies. Now, in a matter of minutes, all of that has been snatched right from under me. Now I have to consider ‘options’?
“Infertility does not equate to childlessness, Lila.”
“Noooooooooo!” The scream sounds like it was ripped from the fabric of my soul. It’s like something inside me breaks hearing that word.
The tears wrench out of me, filled with so much pain. My body spasms from the sobs racking violently through me.
I stumble out of my seat, but my legs feel too weak to carry my own weight. The ground beneath me is spinning.
Her face is starting to get hazy. I stumble backwards, and I feel arms around me, keeping me from falling. Dr. Saint had quickly made her way around the table to hold me. Her own eyes glaze over with tears too as she tries to console me.
I thrash against her, trying to free myself from her grip and wake up from this nightmare. But she is too strong, or maybe I’m too weak.
Suddenly, my body starts to fail me, the edges of my vision start to tinge with darkness, images of laughing children seem to taunt me behind my closing eyelids.
I try to fight harder, but I have nothing left in me. The darkness intensifies, determined to swallow me whole.
Vaguely, I can feel Dr. Saint tapping my cheeks repeatedly.
“Stay with me, Lila. Come on, stay with me, honey.”
I don’t want to stay. There’s nothing left for me now.
“Help!” she screams, and I hear what sounds like footsteps rushing into the room.
The last thought that drifts into my head as the darkness envelops me is:
I’m…infertile.
***
My eyes crack open, the light seeping in like a slow ache. A groan escapes me as I try to move. My body feels heavy and weighted down. My nose wrinkles at the sterile scent of the room as I glance around feeling disoriented.
I try to move and an IV tugs at my wrist, and then like an avalanche the memories flood back in.
The doctor’s words still seem to hang in the air, suffocating me all over again.
INFERTILE.
My chest tightens, the sting behind my eyes unbearable. Tears bubble up, slipping over the edge.
Life seems determined to deal me its blows. I should be used to this by now—the disappointments, the relentless ache of not being enough. But it still cuts just as deep every time. The walls seem to close in, pressing down on me tighter with every breath I try to take. The room is too small, the air too thin.
Panic claws at me. I can’t stay here. I can’t breathe.
I stare at the IV, my chest rising and falling in erratic bursts. The first sob breaks through, raw and desperate. It tears from me without warning, leaving a hollow echo in its wake.
Memories claw their way forward. I can see Seth’s face, the way he used to smile at me. The way his hands felt against my skin, making me feel warm and secure. That was before I found out what he was capable of.
I close my eyes, but the images keep coming. Suddenly the mask falls, and his handsome face is now contorted in rage.
“You’re nothing without me. You have no talent. You’re never going to be good enough.”
I thought nothing could hurt worse than losing him, losing the life I thought we’d build together.
I was wrong. This pain eclipses it all.
Suddenly the night of Sue’s wedding rehearsal comes rushing back. The words from Cole cutting deep.
“If you can’t even get this small thing right, then I’d hate to see what the rest of your life looks like. Maybe it’s time to reevaluate your life choices and find out exactly what it is you’re good at, ‘cause this ain’t it.”
I thought I was over it, but the cracks have always been there, just waiting for the right moment to split wide open.
The walls of the room feel like they’re caving in, the air thinning until I can’t draw a full breath. I claw at the IV, yanking it free. Blood drips down my wrist, but I don’t care. The sting is nothing compared to the ache inside me.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold tile. I hold on to the bed to steady myself as the room sways slightly. I take in a few deep breaths and take a few steps; the hallway blurs past me, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
The receptionist doesn’t look up as I pass, too engrossed in her phone conversation to notice.
Outside, the cold air slams into me, and I gasp like I’ve been underwater. My breath drifts into the frosty air, and for a second, I just stand there letting the cold nip at my skin.
The rush of the city noise is a welcome contrast to the hospital’s suffocating silence. I start walking. Slowly at first, then faster, praying that distance can pull me out of this nightmare.
I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. There’s only one person I want to call. My hand trembles as I dial the number. She answers on the first ring, her voice warm and familiar. A soothing balm for the pain in my soul.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she says, her tone carrying the soft smile I know she always has for me.
“Hi, Mom.” My voice is a whisper, barely audible over the noise around me.
A single tear slips down my cheek.
“You okay, baby?” Her concern is immediate, woven into the gentle cadence of her words.
“I’m fine,” I lie, throat tightening. “Just a cold coming on.”
Her sigh is teasing. “Well, if Boston’s too cold, you know you can always come home. It’s always warm in Florida, sweetheart.”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips despite everything. All I want to do is crawl into her arms and wrap myself in her warmth.
“I just saw you last month, Mom.”
“And I already miss you,” she replies with a hint of a pout, the kind that used to work so well when I was little.
She doesn’t push, though I can hear her hesitation. Instead, she shifts the conversation, asking about Sue, about work, filling the space with her voice, her love.
“Everything’s good. Work’s going well, Sue’s great.” The lies leave a bitter taste in my mouth, but her voice quiets the chaos in my head, and that’s enough for now.
“Dad and I, we’re always here for you,” she says softly. “If you need anything—anything at all—you just say the word and we’ll be there.”
“Hi, baby,” a gruff voice says into the phone. “How’s my favorite youngest daughter?”
“Hi, Daddy.” I put the phone on mute as sobs rack my body at the sound of his voice.
My throat feels raw, and It’s all I can do to respond. The tears continue to fall silently, and I let them.
“I love you, Daddy,” I manage to get out. “I promise to come see you soon.”
“We love you too, sweetheart. Always.”
When the call ends, I stand there for a moment, phone clutched tightly in my hand. The world moves on around me, loud and chaotic, but their words linger as an anchor in me.
For now, it’s enough.