Lessons from Therapy

TW: Mental Health, Pregnancy Loss, Fertility Challenges

There was a tightness in Kate’s belly that seemed to travel through her diaphragm, threatening to morph into nausea on its warpath. She swallowed and turned her gaze upwards, applying mascara resolutely to her lashes until they were dyed black and lifted to the heavens. Satisfied with her appearance, she inhaled and let out an audible exhale, her shoulders releasing an iota of tension as Kate reclaimed control. Dr. Jones’ voice from earlier that morning echoed in her thoughts,

“I’m noticing the conversation has largely centered around desire. Does that deflect from the theme of courage?”

Nate would be home soon. Kate was painfully aware of her own timeliness and was finding herself deeply, profoundly irritated that Nate was edging towards lateness. She took another deep breath in, deep breath out and walked into the kitchen. Her house was too clean, which Kate knew from years of therapy was an indicator that she was unwell. Skimming the kitchen with her eyes, she found nothing supremely objectionable which compounded her annoyance somehow. She filled up a glass of water and walked to the living room windowsill to overwater some succulents.

Kate’s Anxiety warpath was punctuated by her buzzing phone. She was surprised to see Sarabeth’s name. Elder millennials rarely call – it must be important. Kate picked up the phone feeling worried and skipped pleasantries with her closest friend,

“Is everything okay?”

Sarabeth’s bright tone answered,

“Yeah! How did your appointment go?”

Kate was grateful to have friends who clocked her milestones and checked in to see how she was doing. In Nate’s absence, her brain had felt like an echo chamber reverberating her fears and she was not sure how much of herself was real and how much of herself was neurochemical eccentricity. Sarabeth was a staunch child-agnostic who would be a good sounding board to help Kate discern the appropriate levels of panic for the situation.

“The appointment is in forty-five minutes, Nate hasn’t come home yet.”

“Yeah – the clinic is, like, five minutes away?”

“I know, I’m doing the most. I just want him to be here and doing this with me instead

of off at brunch with whoever.”

“Kate, I get that – I really do – but he’s also trying to get through this the best way he can. Did you tell him you didn’t want him to go?

“No.”

Kate immediately felt silly and then profoundly guilty. She remembered how she and Nate had held each other and cried through their second miscarriage. She remembered his drawn countenance as he’d gotten up for work the next morning and soldiered on, while Kate remained in the bathroom tearfully replacing a sullied sanitary napkin. Do you want me to stay?

She remembered how he had missed the first workout in the history of their relationship that evening and just crumpled into bed with her instead at 6pm. She knew he was hurting too. He had told her as much when they began to see Dr. Jones together at the recommendation of her own therapist.

The injustice of it all made it so challenging for Kate to find extra stores of emotional bandwidth. In these moments, anger felt more tolerable to Kate than terror. She was working so hard to exist that despite Nate’s unwavering support, she found herself resenting his role in conception. And loss. These spirals left Kate feeling exhausted and guilty and, ironically, reaching to Nate for comfort.

“As the individual bearing the physical symptoms of fertility and infertility, how are you experiencing the prospect of next steps?” Dr. Jones’ voice screamed in Kate’s ears so loudly she nearly forgot she was in the middle of a real conversation with Sarabeth.

“You’re right. This has just been so hard and I’ve had to change my medications so

that my body would be able to sustain a healthy pregnancy. I’ve just been freaking out

all the time.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Sarabeth sounded tired and breathy and Kate immediately felt guilty for being a downer. Sarabeth continued, “Honestly, I’ve been taking the same medications for Depression since I was sixteen and I can tell you right now, a doctor would have to pry my script out of my cold dead hands before I would give up the one thing that keeps me afloat.”

That was the most relatable thing Kate had ever heard.

She heard the mechanical noise of the garage opening through the kitchen wall.

“Sarabeth, I gotta go. I hear Nate”

“Okay, bye! I love you!”

“Love you too”

Kate hung up the phone and turned expectantly at the door, waiting for Nate. He bustled through the door carrying a bundle of her favorite dahlias. Her frustration dissipated and her eyes swelled with guilt and repressed sadness. Nate engulfed her in a hug that felt like a heated duvet containing her body and all of the feelings that had been compressed within her. Kate pulled back and sent her gaze upwards, trying to maintain her composure.

“Can’t do this now,” she said with a resolve that was inauthentic to the trembling insecurity within her. “You ready to go?”

“If you are.”

Nate’s lips were a tight line on his face and his eyes searched Kate pleadingly and imploringly. He was exuding a helplessness that Kate couldn’t abide in this moment so she looked away from him, picked up the purse that had been waiting for them by the front door and made her way out to her car. She would drive.

She put the car into gear and turned off the car stereo immediately when it began to blast her audiobook at a staggeringly high volume. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Nate rolled down his window. Kate’s hands flew immediately to her hair getting tousled in the wind and, seeing the flash of ire crossing her face, Nate thought better of it and rolled his window back up. The silence endured.

Three and a half minutes later, Kate pulled into Grove Fertility Clinic. Feeling as though she was being catapulted violently into the deep end, she took two more deep breaths in and out and walked into the office, supporting the weight of her family’s hopes and dreams with her.