Invisible String

8

The conversation didn’t solve everything. It wasn’t neat or easy. But it was real. Painful and raw. But real.

And maybe that was enough for now.

---

One morning, the sunlight was just starting to peek through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the bed. I turned toward Travis, my heart heavy but desperate to say the thing I’d been holding in.

“Do… do you think?” I started, my voice barely above a whisper. “Could adoption work for us?”

He looked up at me, eyes still a little tired but steady. There was a pause—a quiet moment where I could almost hear his thoughts weighing every word.

“Tay,” he finally said, his voice gentle but firm, “if you want to stop all the testing and the waiting and the heartbreak, then yes. Adoption could work. It’s a beautiful way to build a family.”

I bit my lip, searching his face for any hesitation.

“But,” he added, “if you’re still confident that you can get pregnant again, that there’s still a chance, then I’d say no. We owe it to ourselves to keep trying, if that’s what you want.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodding slowly. “I don’t know if I’m ready to give up yet. But I’m tired, Travis. Tired of hoping and hurting.”

He reached over, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I know. Me too. But whatever you decide, we’ll face it together. No matter what.”

And for the first time in weeks, I felt like maybe—just maybe—we’d find a way through this. Together.

---

“I’ll have Tree call around to see if we can look into it,” I said quietly, my voice catching just a bit.

Travis’s eyes went wide—surprised, really. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again like he was searching for the right words.

“Sweetheart… are you sure?” he finally asked, his voice soft and cautious.

I nodded, even though tears welled up and blurred my vision. “If the only time I got pregnant, it ended with me losing her, then I don’t want to go through that again.”

He reached out, pulling me close, and I let myself cry against his shoulder. We didn’t have the answers yet, but for the first time, the fear felt a little lighter—because we were facing it together.

Travis gently pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, concern etched deep into his face. “Are you really sure, Tay? You’re still crying…”

I swallowed hard, blinking back more tears. “I’m sure. I’m just… a mess right now.” My voice was shaky, barely more than a whisper.

He nodded slowly, squeezing my hand. “Okay. We’ll figure this out—together. No matter what.”

I nodded against his touch, letting myself lean on him for a moment. The weight of everything felt a little less heavy with him there. We sat like that for a while—just holding on to each other in the quiet.

Later that day, I sat down with my phone and messaged Tree, asking her to start looking into adoption options quietly. The thought of opening that door was terrifying, but also a relief—like maybe there was a new kind of hope waiting for us, even if it looked different than what I’d imagined.

Travis kept checking on me all day, making sure I ate something and reminding me to breathe when my mind spiraled. I knew this was just the beginning of a long, complicated journey, but somehow, having him by my side made it feel like I wasn’t walking it alone.