Chapter 1
Months Later
“And you’re sure you’re ready for this?” my younger sister Zyah asked me.
The two of us were riding in the rental car we’d picked up at the airport.
After four months and a two hour flight, I felt like I was ready to share the news about my fertility with my family.
While I still hadn’t made any hardcore decisions, the reality of the situation had settled.
I accepted the fact that if I wanted motherhood (which I did), I wasn’t going to be able to take the typical path to get there.
“Ready probably isn’t the right word, but I’m going to do it,” I responded.
“There’s been so many times that I’ve wanted to pick up the phone and call Mama.
Just cry on her shoulder. But I can’t get her support if she doesn’t know about the issue.
” I pulled my eyes off the road in front of me briefly to glance at my sister.
“Besides, it’s not fair for you to have to bear the burden of my secret. ”
“You’re my sister, Ry. It’s not a burden.”
I maneuvered the car into the driveway of the familiar house on the familiar street.
Though I no longer lived in Pecan Shores, I was glad every time I came into town that my mother never agreed to my brother buying her a new house.
My brother was Christian “CJ” Upton. For over a decade, he was the most popular, most decorated, most successful, most loved, and most hated player in professional basketball.
He was also one of the richest people in America, based on both his contract and his endorsements.
He could’ve bought our parents any house in the world and offered to, but my mother refused.
She wanted to stay in the house that she and our father worked hard for, the house they raised the four Upton siblings in.
I looked up at the edifice of the house that we’d grown up in, and a sense of calm fell over me.
Our mother, Kimberly Upton, met us at the front door before we could ring the doorbell. “Ry.” She pulled me into a loving hug. “Zy.” She released me and pulled Zyah into a hug. “Get in here. We’ve been waiting for you guys, so we could start dinner.”
After visiting the bathroom, Zyah and I found our family in the dining room, preparing to sit down at the table.
I went around the room greeting everybody.
Zyah and Christian lived in Chicago, so I saw the two of them frequently.
Both Zyah and I worked for our oldest sibling.
Zyah handled Christian’s social media and digital presence.
I worked as his personal manager. I handled everything in his life that pertained to the personal side.
For example, while I didn’t schedule his photoshoots, I laid out the clothes he would wear, packed the bag if one was needed, made sure that he arrived on time to the shoot, and made sure there was nothing else on his personal calendar that would clash with the photoshoot.
I scheduled the grocery deliveries, the vehicle maintenance, doctor and dental appointments.
I made sure that the housekeeper, gardener, and nanny understood the expectations.
I purchased the plane tickets and made sure the resort was booked when he wanted to take his wife and children on a family vacation.
I made sure that there was always shower gel, dish soap, laundry detergent, and garbage bags.
I was the mayor of the mundane.
The president of the predictable.
The handler of the household.
And I loved my job. I loved my brother, his wife, and my adorable niece and nephews. They were goals for me. I had to admit that serving them every day since I got the diagnosis caused a sting because I might not ever get what they had.
Anyway, my point was that I saw them frequently. My brother Ricky and our parents lived in Pecan Shores, Virginia. I didn’t get to see them as often. So, I sought them out first.
“Daddy.” I landed in his open arms and buried myself unapologetically in his chest.
“My rowdy girl.” He kissed the top of my head and held me close. He felt and smelled familiar.
“I missed you, Daddy.”
“You should come home more often.”
“I should.”
He pulled me in tighter. “When your mama said you were coming to talk to us, I got a pit in the middle of my stomach. Are you okay?”
“Not really,” I admitted. Being safe in my dad’s arms made tears start to well in my eyes. “But I don’t want to have to tell the story one hundred times. I would rather just say what I have to say and get it over with.”
“Understood. So, go get you a plate and let’s have this conversation.”
I made my way to Ricky. Ricky was the sibling right over me.
Growing up, we were moderately close. Ricky tended to stay busy because he was always trying to find his “thing.” I always felt like he put pressure on himself to find something he could excel at, because Christian was so good at basketball.
“Big Rick,” I sang as we embraced.
“Rowdy Ry.” He broke the embrace and captured my chin in his hand. His brown eyes met mine. “You good?”
I shrugged.
Next, I hugged Christian. All-Star weekend had just ended, so with a few days off, Christian had brought his family to the home they owned in Pecan Shores.
Finally, I hugged my sister-in-law, Genesis Cole-Upton, and my niece and nephews.
Then, I grabbed a plate, filled it with food, and met my family members at the dining room table.
“Talk to us, Ry,” my dad said after a few moments of us all digging into our plates.
“Yeah,” Christian agreed. “I’m feeling a way, because you had to come all the way to Pecan Shores to tell me something, when you could’ve told me in Chicago.”
I knew my brother would get in his feelings about me keeping the situation from him. As the eldest sibling, he always felt like it was his responsibility to look out for us and make sure we were always straight.
“It’s not about you, Chris Cross.” His wife chided gently. “Ryann made the decision that was best for her.”
I gave Genesis a small smile. “Uhm, I had some … things going on with me. Not life threatening things or things that you should be concerned about in that way. Feminine things. I went to the doctor. She did some blood work. It turns out that I have a rare condition called POI. It stands for Primary Ovarian Insufficiency. It basically means that eggs aren’t being delivered properly.
Which means that my fertility is severely compromised.
” I took a deep breath, proud that I was able to get it out without dissolving into tears.
“So, when you get ready to have children, will IVF be an option?” Christian questioned. “Genesis and I can help you out if you decide to do IVF.”
“Yeah, we’re experts.” His wife agreed, with a wan smile.
My brother and sister-in-law struggled with infertility. All three of their children had been conceived through IVF. Fertility issues were an open topic in our family because of it.
“Uhm,” I began, “my doctor would really like to harvest and freeze my eggs as soon as possible. POI is a follicle issue. Follicles transport the egg from the ovary. My follicles are diminishing by the year. Since I don’t have a husband or even a contender, she thinks we should get the eggs out now.
That way, when I’m ready, the eggs will be there.
All frozen and waiting.” I tried to make a little joke, although nothing about my situation was funny.
“Ryann.” My mother cried, tears floating down her cheeks. “Oh no.”
Before I knew what was happening, she was out of her seat hugging me from behind my chair. “I don’t understand why this keeps happening to my babies.”
“This doesn’t keep happening. This is something completely different from what was going on with Christian and Genesis,” I reminded her.
“Damn, Ry baby.” My dad’s eyes were soft as they met mine. “I’m sorry to hear this. I definitely think you should do what your doctor suggested. At least that way, the opportunity for you to be a mom will still exist.”
I nodded.
“Is there medicine or anything you can take?” Ricky asked.
“Nah.” I shook my head. “It’s irreversible.”
Zyah jumped in. “But I went with Ry to talk to a holistic doctor that was recommended. She’s an MD, who has a healthy respect for nontraditional and eastern medicine. Ryann’s been doing acupuncture and exercising.”
“Yeah, and I’m on a vitamin regiment, trying to support both my follicles and my ovaries. I’ve even changed my diet.”
My mom squeezed me from behind again. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. However we can help you, you know we’ve got you. Just let us know how you want to be supported.”
I leaned into her embrace. Her words and the sincerity behind them were why I wanted to share my diagnosis. I was going to need their support and encouragement.
One thing about my parents not letting Christian upgrade their house was that it still had the same footprint from when the four of us were kids.
It was a four bedroom house, but unlike the more modern houses, every bedroom didn’t have its own bathroom attached.
So, later that night when Zyah stepped into the doorway of the bedroom I planned to sleep in, she was wrapped in a towel.
I knew she’d just come from showering in the hallway bathroom that our bedrooms shared.
I’d chosen the bedroom that she and I used to share growing up, while she took the one that Christian and Ricky used to share.
“You okay, Sis?”
I looked over at her. “Yeah, it was good to finally get it off my chest.”
She smirked before teasing me. “You never were good at keeping secrets. You and Ricky couldn’t hold water.”
“Keeping secrets was your domain.” I chuckled. “Sorry about making you keep this to yourself for so long.”
“You’re my big sister, Ry. I would’ve taken your secret to the grave.”
I stood from the queen sized bed that had replaced the two twins she and I once shared and crossed the room. I caught my sister in a hug. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I love you.”
“I love you back. Now get some sleep.”
“Right, because it’s been a long day.”
After my sister left, I climbed into bed and pulled out my Kindle, determined to finish the newest book from author Kay Shanee. I must’ve been more tired than I thought, because I awoke in a dark room to the mattress shifting.
“Go back to sleep, baby,” my mother’s voice, rich with her warmth, said into the darkness. “I just came to pray over you and love on you a little bit.” She curled up next to me.
I wiggled into her arms. I wasn’t sure how the lady always knew exactly what I needed, but I was thankful.
I was thankful for her love, for her care, and for the fact that I’d finally told my family what was going on with me.
I thought not telling them was best while I tried to deal with and process it.
In actuality, it just delayed me having their support.
I drifted back off during my prayer. It was the one where I asked God if He ever gave me the opportunity to become a mom, that I would be one just like Kimberly Upton.
The next day, Christian decided to treat the ladies to a spa day. For some odd reason, we let Zyah arrange it. We shouldn’t have been surprised when the first activity of the day was a yoni steaming.
“First of all,” our mother stated, looking at the seat with an up-turned nose, “is this sanitary? How many yonis do you think have sat on here? I don’t want to leave here with an infection.”
Even though I knew she was serious, I couldn’t stop laughing. Apparently, my laugh was contagious, because neither Zyah nor Genesis could hold it together.
“Mom,” Zyah said through her giggles, “they change the seat covering after every client.”
Kimberly Upton didn’t look convinced. “And what is the purpose of this again?”
“It’s an herbal steam, Mom. The herbs are supposed to have healing benefits. Like stress relief and detoxifying the womb. Some studies say that it increases fertility.”
That was all Kimberly needed to hear before situating herself on the chair.
I pulled out my tablet and sighed. “So, I’ve been researching potential sperm donors… just in case I have to go that route.”
“Are the pickings slim?” Genesis questioned. “I know that one famous lesbian couple said that the black men pickings were so slim, that they went with a white donor.”
“You know you can always have some of Amari’s sperm. I’ve told you that before,” Zyah offered for the umpteenth time. “I mean, we don’t want kids right now. He’s not using it.”
“Stop offering me your husband’s sperm. That would be kinda weird, no? My kids would be his kids and his nieces or nephews? Then, if you two have kids, they would be their siblings and their cousins.”
“Well, Genesis, you have two brothers. You think either of them would be willing to take one for the team?”
Genesis seemed to contemplate.
“Don’t feed into her foolishness, Genesis.” I turned to Zyah. “Stop offering up people’s sperm without their knowledge and/or permission.”
“I’m trying to help you,” she insisted.
“Whatever.” I waved her off. “Here are the choices that this agency has to offer.” I handed my tablet to Genesis, who was seated next to me.
She silently swiped through the offerings before handing the tablet to my mother. She turned to me. “Boo, I’mma talk to my brothers for you.”