Countdown

TEN!

NINE!

EIGHT!

SEVEN!

SIX!

***

The crowd chanted along, the excitement building as the second hand ticked away to a new year.

She desperately wanted to be part of the merriment, the celebration, the “this is our year, babe” sentiment that Joe was brimming with. He was still in the blissful state of “it’s finally happening” but she knew better.

“Ready? Remember, no champagne for you!” He had teased her before leaving the house, smiling at her from his bubble of one. She would be more than happy to do without the alcoholic midnight toast, thrilled to choose sparkling water for herself. It’s all she ever wanted.

For years.

She watched from the sidelines as a spectator rather than a participant on the only team she wanted to join. She cheered on the women, her friends and coworkers, attended their baby showers with the expected oohs and ahhs at the unwrapping of the tiny outfits. She listened to their concerns over labor and beyond, watching their bellies grow rounder each day.

For they did not know her struggle. She and Joe had put every drop they had into the process. Only to remain empty. 

For years her life revolved around the calendar, her cycle. “This is the month, babe. I can feel it.” And they would plan their special night and lay in bliss afterward wondering if the magic was happening deep within her where they couldn’t see the miracle. Then inevitably the disappointment a few weeks later. 

The specialists ran the tests, so many tests, like lab rats until feeling more like specimen than human beings wanting a result rather than a baby. Their special night turned into an appointment marked on the calendar and circled in red. That dark angry red. Why would they choose that color, the color of their inevitable disappointment, the red she saw that made her heart break a little more each month. Perhaps they should have circled their appointment in green, the color of spring, of growth, of life. Maybe that way they could have been fertile.

They gave it one more year. The procedures didn’t work, they were out of funds and barely hanging onto the house. The doctors still had hope for success ‘the old fashioned way’, so they agreed to one more year amidst her tears and frustration.

What was wrong with her? The despair filled her every space, every crevice, preoccupied her every thought. Gone were the days of socializing with friends, chatting casually over a cup of coffee, having a laugh or two at a movie. Her family called and left messages expressing their concern, their encouragement. She didn’t know which was the worse of the two. ‘Delete’, ‘delete’, ‘delete’ as she removed those unheard voicemails. 

Her time was dictated by her calendar. Counting the days until . . . then counting the days during . . . and then finally counting the days after. The bitterness rising in her throat when that red disappointment became apparent yet again. Once upon a time, it would make her lie on the bathroom floor sobbing. Eventually, sobbing required more energy than she had.

The young women at the park pushing their babies in strollers were a cruel reminder. Seeing them play in the grassy fields, running after a ball on a sunny day was more than she could bear, choosing to drive the long way home from the office to avoid the playground. It was not for her.

She felt resentment grow towards her husband knowing that was irrational but unable to help herself. Did she still love him? Did she even like him? Would she stay with this man with whom she shared nothing more than broken dreams?

And then the slightest bit of queasiness upon waking up. She had sat up in bed and froze. Was it possible? Counting and recounting on her fingers over and over, she woke her husband. 

“I’m nauseous.” She lay on her side nose to nose with the only one who would understand. 

“Do you think?” 

“I do.”

She rolled over to be the little spoon to his big spoon basking in the emotion. He stroked her hair, put his hand on her still flat belly. She wouldn’t allow herself to be fully immersed in the possibility. It was a long way from fact, but the glimmer was more than she had hoped for as their promised one last year was drawing to a close.

They entered a blissful cocoon of togetherness, sharing the joy of their long anticipated miracle. “Let’s take time off to enjoy,” Joe suggested, and she blocked off the rest of the month. The calendar that had become her enemy was now once again her friend redeeming itself before she turned it in for a new one.

Sitting in the rocking chair, she dared to dream her dreams. She closed her eyes in the nursery empty of furniture but full of hope. 

She imagined her belly growing larger until her child was ready to meet her. She saw the baby in the crib, placing a hand on her back checking the rhythm of her breathing. Then sitting up, standing up, the crib tucked into storage replaced by a toddler bed. Stuffed teddy bears and blankets while curled together for story time. “One more story, Mommy, please.” “Okay, my little love, one more.” Tears at the bus stop, would they be her own tears or her child’s tears as the bus drove away leaving her alone on the street?

Prom, boyfriends, heartbreak. The pain of her daughter’s heartbreak was unimaginable. What about the pain of her own heartbreak when they have their first fight, their first angry words, the inevitable slamming of doors and shouting. Would they be quick to forgive? Guilty images of her own youth floated around her in the empty nursery as she rocked with her hands on her belly.

Then the very last day as she dressed for their evening out, she looked at that calendar and smiled. It had been worth it; their dreams were coming true. She applied her lipstick and fluffed up her hair while Joe turned on the hall light to keep the house safe. 

“Ready?” he smiled at her.

“Almost,” she said heading to the bathroom. Moments later, she called out in a shaky voice, “Be right there.”

***

FIVE!

FOUR!

THREE!

TWO!

ONE!

The biting wind as December turned into January made her eyes sting, finally releasing the tears of grief she had been holding back the last few hours. The crowd went wild with cheers and well wishes. Confetti spilled down from the heavens crossing paths with the precious life she briefly knew.

As Joe leaned in to give her the first kiss of the year, she turned away.