"I didn't choose this for myself: the constant heartache, the feeling out of place in my own home, the lack of freedom. I didn't choose it, just like you didn't, Elijah. I can live with a husband who doesn't love me, but I will not forgo respect. I'...
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I and Elijah have been coexisting peacefully for the past week. After our conversation, I have researched everything I need to know about IVF, and I think that's the route we're going to use.
He has decided that we should stay in Greece for some more time, which I'm not complaining about, as for the first time in almost two years, I feel like myself again. I and Alena have become close, and we try to talk every day and see each other whenever we can.
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I and Elijah are currently sitting in a doctor's office, talking to Dr Roman, who was recommended by our family doctor, so I can have a smooth transition with her when I get back to New York.
"I must let you know that this process can be exhausting, and there will be times that you'll want to stop trying either permanently or temporary. You must listen to your body, and the information it is giving you."
I nod at Dr Roman's words, trying to offer him a smile, but only managing a grimace. I become hyper-alert about the hand that is now resting on mine, on my knee, stopping the frantic movement of my leg.
"I'll give you a moment, while I go and get both of your blood works," the doctor lets us know.
"I don't know if this is the best moment to do this. We can wait, and we can try at a later time. There's no rush." Elijah's voice is oddly comforting, right now, but I ignore the warmth pooling in my lower belly and give him a curt answer. "No. We need to start as soon as possible, so we can get this over and done with, as soon as possible, too."
"Lilliana, this isn't just something temporary. It's a baby. Your baby. Our child, Lilliana. They're going to bind us together for life, and our love for them is going to matter a lot. Rushing into doing this may make us resent them. Is that what you want? To resent your child?"
I roll my eyes, "This isn't what I wanted, it's not with who I wanted it and not at the time I wanted it. I am not going to be happy about this. It'll take nine months for me to feel anything that isn't resentment. Not for the baby, specifically, but for what it represents, for me. When I look into their eyes, I'll fall in love, but until then, don't expect me to be anything more than an incubator for it."
