Millie Criswell - No Strings Attached

“Fire away. I want you to feel completely comfortable about everything we’re going to do. This is a big step you’re taking.”

“From what I’ve read, it’s my understanding that I have to be ovulating before you can perform the procedure. Is that correct?”

“Precisely. With both artificial and intrauterine insemination, ovulation has to occur in order for the donated sperm to fertilize your eggs.”

“What’s the difference between the two? And what’s my best bet for conceiving?”

“Depends on what we discover from your tests. With intrauterine insemination, we flush the sperm directly into the uterus by means of a catheter. Artificial insemination puts the sperm into the vagina or on the cervix. But sometimes the woman’s cervical mucus is such that it won’t allow the sperm to travel through it, thus blocking fertilization.”

Samantha’s face fell and a stab of disappointment knifed through her. “Oh. I hadn’t read that.” It would be just her luck to have body fluids that hated sperm. First her ovary might be a dud, and now this.

“Once I see the results of your tests I’ll be able to determine the best way to proceed. You should know that in either case the percentage for successfully producing a fertilized egg is low.”

“Really? How low?” She thought this plan of hers was foolproof. It seemed every girl she’d known in high school who’d had sex before marriage had gotten pregnant.

“It can be as low as eight percent, so you need to be prepared for failure. Of course, I’ve had patients who have gotten lucky on the first try, but that’s rare. It’s a crapshoot, if you want to know the truth. It either takes or it doesn’t. There’s really no way to predict the outcome.”

Their discussion was getting more depressing by the minute, and Samantha wondered if she was wasting her time. “I see.” But she didn’t, not really.

Why did everything have to be so damn complicated? She just wanted to have a baby—something women had been doing for eons.

“My nurse, Mrs. Wilson, said she’s already explained to you about making a BBT chart and tracking your temperature. This is how we’ll determine whether or not you’re ovulating.” His brows rose in anticipation. “I assume you’re doing that already?”

She nodded. “I started as soon as she told me. I’ve been religious about filling out the temperature chart every day. And as close as I can figure based on my last period, I should be ovulating by next week.”

He smiled kindly. “Excellent. I’ll have my nurse set up an appointment. We’ll shoot for the end of next week, providing your tests and sonogram prove okay. How does that sound?”

“Fine.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but her heart was racing with excitement.

The doctor hesitated a moment, his face filling with concern. “I should tell you, Ms. Brady, that artificial insemination in any form is not an inexpensive proposition. Have you considered the cost? We sometimes have to do this procedure over and over again to achieve the results we want. And most insurance companies don’t cover it, as it’s considered an elective course of action.”

Samantha swallowed. She had no health insurance, but she had cashed in several of the savings bonds her grandparents had given her at birth. If there were no further complications, she’d have enough money for maybe two attempts.

“I understand. And I’m prepared to move forward.”

Go directly to debtor’s prison. Do not pass GO. Do not collect two hundred dollars.

“All right then. We’ll give it a try. Do you have someone you can bring with you to your appointment, to take you home after the procedure? You may experience some discomfort, a bit of cramping, and I’d feel better if you had someone to accompany you home.”

“Umm, yes. I’m certain one of my friends will come with me.” But that was a crock and she knew it. Jack would rather have his eyelashes plucked out, one by one, than accompany her to the doctor’s office. And though Patty had been supportive, she wasn’t sure how much her friend wanted to participate in something she felt was idiotic.

Samantha was in this alone, and alone was how she was going to do it.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Jack entered the apartment to find Samantha seated at the kitchen table eating a large bowl of ice cream. She was looking rather glum, despite the chocolate flavor, which usually had the power to put a smile on her face. “What’s wrong? Did you get bad news from the doctor?”

She looked up, smiled halfheartedly in greeting, and then shrugged. “Not really bad news, but not good news either. The results of my tests were inconclusive, and my sonogram shows that one of my ovaries has a small cyst and is not functioning properly. It’s sluggish, whatever that means.”

“So you’re not getting it done?” He looked relieved. “I’m glad. Like I said, it would be a mistake.”

“Doctor Phillips postponed the insemination procedure. He said based on what he’s seen so far I might have difficulty conceiving.”

Crossing the room in three long strides, Jack took her hands, his eyes filled with concern. “I’m sorry, Samantha. I know how important this is to you. But maybe God is trying to tell you something, like you should wait for the right man to come along.”

She gazed into his eyes and said, “The right man isn’t going to come along, Jack.” He already had and he’d kept right on walking. “And I’m not down for the count yet. The doctor said to come back on Tuesday afternoon.”

“I want to go with you, make sure everything goes okay. You might not be feeling well afterward, and I don’t want you going home by yourself. You could faint on the subway, or something.”

Smiling softly, she patted his cheek and recalled why Jack was such an important part of her life. “That’s nice of you. I wasn’t sure you’d want to come, knowing how you feel about doctors and hospitals.” But she should have guessed. Jack had always been there for her; he was the one person she could count on, no matter what problems she faced. And she liked to think she’d always be there for him, too.

But she also knew that Jack hated anything having to do with illness. His father had spent a lot of time in hospitals and treatment facilities, trying to dry out. The Turners had been frequent visitors to the hospital during those times, and the memories of those visits remained unpleasant for him.

“I’ll survive,” he said.

“I know, but—”

Suddenly Jack wrapped his arms about Samantha, unable to contain his grin. “I’ve got good news.”

Her eyes widened with delight. “I thought you were looking rather pleased with yourself this evening. Did you finally sell that monstrosity on West 103rd?”

Shaking his head, his grin widened. “No. This isn’t about a sale. I quit my job today, Samantha. I’m free of that bastard O’Leary. Told him to shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

Laughing, she threw her arms about his waist and hugged him hard. “That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you, Jack. This calls for a major celebration.”

He shook his head, his expression suddenly somber. “We’ll celebrate after I work out all the details. For now, we need to conserve money, just in case this new venture of mine doesn’t work out. It’s a big risk, and I’m worried about it.”

“But I thought Tom Adler was investing.”

“He is. But the overhead is going to be big. And until we start making sales, I want to pull back on the spending.”

“I understand.”

“That doesn’t mean that I won’t lend you money, if you need it for the insemination procedures. I intend to be here for you, even if I don’t agree with what you’re doing.”