Page 2 of Aquarius Awakening (BLP Signs of Love #20)

Season of Loneliness

I woke up early to start my day. Last night, I worked longer than I anticipated.

By the time I got home, Mason was asleep.

The lack of communication between us after the appointment nudged at my spirit all day.

I wasn’t the type to go to sleep with lingering issues in my marriage.

However, as the day drew on with no communication from my husband, I just focused on myself.

When I walked past my vanity, I glanced in the mirror.

I looked exhausted, and my brown skin appeared dull.

It was like my skin showcased the emotions I tried to mask.

As I examined my face further, I almost didn’t recognize the woman who stared back at me.

I usually looked vibrant and refreshed in the morning.

Something had to change and fast because I couldn’t continue this way.

After the stare down with myself, I continued to hunt for Mason.

As I entered the kitchen, I noticed Mason at the table finishing his coffee.

“Good morning, babe. I’m sorry I got in so late last night. Do you have time to talk before you leave?” I asked.

“Morning. I’m kind of in a rush, but we can talk quickly. What’s on your mind?” he asked.

I looked at him puzzled. There was no way he could have forgotten the events of yesterday.

“Do you want to continue with the treatment?” I asked softly.

“What’s the point of continuing? Two years and $100,000 later, we have nothing to show for it. Your body isn’t working, no matter how much medicine or money we throw at the problem,” he argued.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Mason’s words made me feel so small. Each time he mentioned my shortcomings, I died inside.

“You sure are sorry. It’s like I got a dud when I married you. All of my friends are on their second kid. Every day, I’m looking at my coworkers showing off their kids, yet here I am, five years into my marriage, with none of my own. What is wrong with you?” He berated me.

I hung my head in shame as his words cut deep.

“I don’t know, but this conversation isn’t helping.

You think I don’t feel bad that my egg quality isn’t great?

I’m as disappointed as you are, probably even more, because I’m the problem.

What woman wants to hear that her ovarian reserve is so low that she may need to consider using a donor egg?

I’m thirty-five years old, yet my eggs are acting as if they belong to a woman ten years my senior. ”

“That’s not my fault. You were right yesterday. We need to take a break... permanently. I don’t want to sit through another appointment being looked at with pity by that doctor. I have had enough,” he commanded.

“So, that’s it? You don’t want to try again ever?” I asked as my chin quivered.

“No, I don’t. Look, I have to get going. This conversation is over, so let’s just move on,” Mason said with finality as he exited the kitchen.

“Move on? Move on from what? I’m supposed to give up on my dream of becoming a mother because you give up?” I fumed through my tears.

The door slammed and shook the entire house as Mason stormed out.

I stood in the same spot in the kitchen for God knows how long.

As if in a daze, I looked around my kitchen.

Each piece of this home, Mason and I picked out together.

Our three-bedroom condo on Park Avenue was a bit of a fixer-upper when we purchased it.

Every inch of our home was a reminder of happier times.

The stone backsplash we found while watching one of those shows about people doing remodeling.

A house once filled with love and optimism now made me feel like the walls were closing in on us.

When I sat in Dr. Carter’s office yesterday, I hoped we would take a break and then regroup later.

If I had known this would be the outcome of my statement, I wouldn’t have mentioned the break at all.

I knew from his silence yesterday that he would react this way.

After every failed cycle, there was always an argument.

He repeatedly blamed me for the shortcomings of my body.

This conversation had been the worst yet.

The way he walked out was consistent with the dismissive nature I had grown accustomed to.

It saddened me as I reflected on how our loving relationship seemed to turn into a business partnership that I was unable to fulfill.

Mason and I met six years ago when one of my girlfriends from college was dating one of his friends and introduced us.

We both unknowingly ended up on a double date.

Mason was charismatic and easy on the eyes, so it wasn’t difficult to get to know him.

His dark brown eyes, espresso-colored complexion, and muscular build, which filled a suit, captivated me.

I could tell from the tailored suit he wore that Mason took pride in his appearance.

As a fashion designer, I knew my designers.

Masson had spent a pretty penny on everything from the suit and cufflinks to the shoes.

As we conversed through the evening, I learned he worked in banking.

That initial meeting led to our first date.

Within a year, we were married. By the third year of our marriage, we decided to start our family.

Sadly, that decision felt like the beginning of the end of us.

During the first few months of our trying, we were optimistic.

However, after six months had passed with no luck, we decided to seek help.

Dr. Carter started us out with some artificial insemination cycles.

I was only thirty at the time, so we did six cycles.

When they didn’t work, we moved on to in vitro fertilization.

We decided to batch some eggs and embryos just to cover all bases.

The eggs would only be fertilized if the embryos we used were not viable. The process had been grueling.

With the last artificial insemination cycle, I did get pregnant.

Sadly, our celebration was cut short once I miscarried ten weeks into the pregnancy.

The miscarriage helped us decide we needed to pursue in vitro fertilization with genetic screening to optimize our chances.

This would allow us to test all the embryos prior to transfer.

We hoped it would help us avoid another miscarriage.

During the treatments, I also tried acupuncture.

I hired a chef to ensure I ate only the best. Then there were the supplements.

It felt like every week I found something new to try.

All of that, and now, I was at the end of the road of my journey with nothing to show for it but the bloating left from the last round of medications I took.

My legs ached from standing in the same spot for so long, so I took a seat in one of the chairs around the island.

Thoughts of the nights I pumped my body with the injections and the mornings of appointments that consisted of ultrasounds and blood draws swam through my mind.

It was all just too much. There was no way my marriage would be able to survive if we remained childless.

Whenever I brought up adoption or surrogacy, the recommendation was always discarded.

Mason would say hurtful things about him not being the problem.

He would say sly things like he didn’t need to suffer because I couldn’t get pregnant.

With all the verbal abuse I had endured over the last few years, maybe a child wasn’t the best thing for us.

It was apparent that we had some things to work out. If my infertility brought this side out of him, what would he do to our child when they misbehaved? No matter how bad things got between us, I often hoped that if I gave him what we both desired, he would go back to the man I fell in love with.

The longer I sat in the kitchen, the colder the house felt.

I didn’t know what to do. Did I stay with a man who was obviously unhappy with me?

Did I continue this process on my own? I had the money and the frozen batch of eggs, so it wasn’t as if I had no options.

My only concern was what if Mason didn’t want to give me his sperm?

I silently prayed he didn’t mean what he said.

Maybe he just needed some time to cool off.

My phone buzzed with a message from Mason.

Hubs:

I won’t be home for dinner.

Me:

When will you be back?

I anxiously held the phone in my hand, waiting for a reply. The three dots appeared as if he was writing me back. However, minutes went by, and still nothing. I decided to call him, but the phone continued to ring until the voicemail came on. How much longer would I allow him to treat me this way?