Invisible String

8

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We decided not to rush back to the doctor. After everything, the thought of facing that sterile room again, the waiting, the tests—it felt unbearable. Travis and I just needed time to breathe, to feel something other than pain.

One evening, we gathered both our families in the living room—an effort to bring the heaviness out into the open, even if it was hard. The air was thick, quiet at first, as everyone took their seats. I looked around at the faces I loved, all waiting for me to say something.

“I guess… we wanted to talk,” I started, voice small but steady. “We’re still grieving. It’s been a lot. We just… don’t want to go back to the doctor yet. Not right now.”

Travis squeezed my hand and nodded. Our parents exchanged glances, trying to hold back their own sadness but wanting to be there for us.

Then someone—Jason, I think—gently asked, “Have you thought about other options? Like adoption?”

The word hung in the room like a thunderclap. It wasn’t just a suggestion—it felt like a verdict. The last resort.

My throat tightened. I swallowed hard and looked down at my hands. Adoption had always been something I feared, something that felt like giving up on a dream I’d held onto for so long.

Travis’s mom reached over and took my hand, her eyes soft but worried. “It’s just a thought,” she said carefully. “We want you to know you’re not alone. There’s no right or wrong here.”

But inside, my heart was screaming. Adoption wasn’t part of the plan—it was a goodbye I wasn’t ready to say.

I forced a small smile and met Travis’s eyes. We didn’t have answers, and honestly, we didn’t know if we ever would. But sitting there, surrounded by love, I realized that whatever the future held, we’d face it as a family.

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The room stayed quiet for a moment longer, everyone processing the weight of what had just been said. Then Kylie, ever the gentle voice of reason, spoke up.

“Taylor, Travis, you’ve been through so much. Maybe holding off on doctors and tests is exactly what you need right now. Just to breathe and figure things out without pressure.”

Jason nodded in agreement, but then his tone shifted, a little more serious. “I know it feels like adoption is a last resort. But sometimes it can be a way to create family in a different way. It doesn’t have to mean giving up hope.”

I bit my lip, feeling a tangle of emotions—fear, guilt, anger, sadness—all twisting inside me. I wanted a baby so badly. To carry life, to hold that tiny hand. Adoption felt like surrender.

Travis wrapped his arm around me and whispered, “We don’t have to decide anything tonight. Or tomorrow. Or even next week.”

His words were a lifeline.

Ed, Travis’s dad, cleared his throat, his voice steady. “You know, when we faced tough times, we learned it’s okay to lean on each other. No shame in feeling lost or scared.”

I glanced at my mom. She smiled softly, tears in her eyes. “Honey, we’ve all had moments we thought were the end of the road. But sometimes, those moments lead us to unexpected places. Places we never imagined could still hold happiness.”

It wasn’t a fix. It wasn’t a solution. But it was love. And for the first time in weeks, I felt a tiny flicker of hope.

Kylie reached over and squeezed my hand. “We’re here for you, no matter what.”

I nodded slowly, my throat tight. “Thank you. I just… need to grieve. And figure out what this means for us.”

Travis kissed my forehead. “One step at a time.”