A very angst chapter - cw // infertility , difficulty in conceiving , PTSD, hurt
Except, it wasn't that month or the month after or the month after that. Before you knew it, eighteen months had passed by, and there was still no baby in sight.
"Why do they always do that?!" Ronnie complained, clearly irritated after spending the evening with your parents as you both prepared to turn in for the night.
You glanced at your disheartened reflection in the bathroom mirror. "They don't know any better, Ronnie," you sighed, finishing your teeth before climbing into your marital bed.
"Yeah? Well, it's still fucking rude."
You had lost count of the number of times you had cried from innocent, well-meaning questions, that when your parents started quizzing you about kids, it caused a near, all-consuming rage to build inside of Ronnie. Mainly because he knew those types of questions upset you, partly because it reminded him of his lack of control over the situation and, ultimately, his failure in providing you with a baby.
"Well, maybe if we opened up about it and told them we were having trouble conceiving, they'd be more understanding?"
"Uh-uh. No way," Ronnie objected with a dismissive wave of his hand as he joined you in bed. "I know exactly what they're like. They'll be flooding us with research studies and unwanted advice."
He was right, and you knew it. "Okay! Fine. It was only a suggestion," you snapped, holding back tears. "But we've been trying for eighteen months now... so, maybe it's about time you got checked?"
You loathed bringing up the subject, knowing the response it caused, but at this point, you were running out of options.
"Not this again... I've told you. I don't need to be checked. I'm not broken!"
"Ronnie! I never said you were broken," you exasperated, beyond frustrated with the situation. "But it might just give us some answers so that we can move forward, that's all."
"Well, stop talking to me like I'm damaged then, and maybe I'll think about it."
After spending far too much time and money on tests at your ob-gyn, you were assured that your fertility was fine, but each month was the same. The two-week wait between ovulation and menstruation was a messy wave of stress and hope, only to be met with a negative pregnancy test at the end of it.
You felt utterly powerless. You were doing everything you could to help assist conception. You made all the recommended lifestyle changes; you cut out caffeine, changed your diet, took a magnitude of vitamins, and still, it wasn't enough.
Now, that wasn't to say that Ronnie wasn't trying either. He also ate right, kept active, and cut out alcohol; he was just as desperate as you for a family that he went along with the majority of your requests. When you read studies about testicle temperature and semen quality, he even agreed to avoid hot tubs and tight underwear in an attempt to keep his balls cool.
His only issue was talking about the problem. Hell, you weren't even sure if he spoke to Paul about it. Communication with Ronnie had become difficult, often resulting in arguments, especially when discussing having his sperm analyzed.
"Anyway," you murmured hesitantly, changing the subject. "I'm... um, ovulating."
Ronnie grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake."
"No, it's fine. I don't even want to look at you anyway."
"Then, rollover," he huffed, lifting his black undershirt over his head before working down his body to remove his boxers.
Despite your irritation, you weren't going to miss a chance of potentially getting pregnant, so you mirrored his actions, removing your underwear to signal your consent before rolling onto your side.
What was once a pleasurable activity and a way of connecting with your husband had tragically become a chore. You tried to remember how incredible the baby-making sex was initially, how excited you both were that there was truly nothing between you, and that sex would result in the ultimate expression of your love for one another; a baby.
But, as you closed your eyes, feeling the firm but gentle grasp of Ronnie's hand pulling your body against his, it was all but a distant memory. Sex had become nothing more than a clinical means to an end, with all the fun and spontaneity removed.
So, it was no surprise when the room turned deathly silent as Ronnie's hand moved to reach in between your thighs, parting your legs to rub against your wetness. Only a hushed gasp escaped your lips when he slipped a finger, then two inside. You felt no desire or need for gratification as he dragged in and out of your core, building the lubrication he required before swiftly removing his digits.
Like a well-choreographed dance, you bent your knees in cooperation as Ronnie guided his length into your tight entrance. A low, rough grunt filled the room when he inched himself inside, one tiny push at a time until he was fully sheathed in your heat. His pelvis was snug up against your ass as he began rocking his hips, fucking you from behind.
Each thrust was met with silence. There was no talk, no begging for cum, no mention of 'Daddy' - only quiet, restrained moans. It was overwhelmingly cold and detached. Your heart ached for the connection you once shared as your bodies moved together.
The spooned position you found yourselves in was so intimate yet distant. The skin-to-skin contact was so comforting yet depressing. Your bodies were attached from the neck, down to your feet, but still, you had never felt so far apart.
You wondered if Ronnie felt it too - the growing distance between you both as he continued to penetrate you. You wanted to ask him; you desperately wanted to know how he was feeling, what he was thinking as his warm, shallow breaths hit the back of your neck.
Instead, you kept silent, barely moaning as you complied with each powerful thrust. You had both become so desperate, so consumed with the desire for a family, for children, that you hadn't stopped to realize that you might be destroying your marriage in the process.
But that was something you could fix once you got that longed-for baby, right?
Before you knew it, you felt the all too familiar erratic, stuttered hip movements from Ronnie as his grasp tightened on your waist and a warmth spread inside of you. A hushed, guttural grunt rang in your ear as he pumped his load, painting your walls white before silence filled the room once more.
You stared at nothing, your body numb as Ronnie pulled out. "Thanks," you mumbled, uncertain what else to say as he moved to switch the bedside lamp off before tugging the sheets around you both.
Ronnie remained silent, not responding to your gratitude as his body spooned against yours. The physical closeness was bittersweet as you felt his hand rest on your stomach, and for a brief moment, you questioned if he yearned for the affection and reassurance you craved.
Admittedly, you hadn't been the best of wives recently, just like Ronnie hadn't been the best of husbands. You knew each of you dealt with your struggle to conceive in different ways and often didn't feel the same emotions at the same time, but as a couple, you longed to feel united.
So, tonight, you'd take comfort in this. Your body wrapped in your husband's arms, his heated cheek against your shoulder as you both surrendered to the serenity of sleep.
---
The three-minute wait after taking yet another pregnancy test two weeks later was as agonizing as always. Of course, you already knew what the result would be, but still, even after all this time, there was always a tiny glimmer of hope that it would be different this month.
But, as the test screen filled up, skipping over the first line that you longed to see and went straight to the solo second 'not pregnant' line, you couldn't stop your bottom lip from quivering as tears welled in your eyes.
Your shoulders instantly dropped in resignation as tears raced down your face. Another negative pregnancy test. Another period due any day now, and another reminder that for whatever reason, you couldn't get pregnant.
Unsure what to do with yourself, you returned to bed and curled up into a ball, thankful at least that you had the hindsight of taking the day off as Kylo entered your bedroom. The dog looked at you momentarily before shaking the Yoda plush in its mouth.
"I don't wanna play," you sighed, pulling the sheets around you as the canine cocked his head and barked. "Please, Kylo. Just go away," you sniffled.
Undeterred, Kylo jumped on the bed with his favorite toy and circled several times before laying down beside you. He studied your face with wide eyes before deciding to lick the back of your hand. It was times like these you realized how much you loved your silly dog as he attempted to comfort you. His companionship caused a brief smile to line your lips before Kylo eventually rested his nose in his paws and yawned.
You stayed like that for two hours before mustering up the courage to text Ronnie. You hated telling him that once again, there would be no pregnancy to celebrate this month.
'Hope work is okay? The test was negative... again. I'm sorry :(. '
You were numb when you sent the message, your body emotionally exhausted from the grief and utter heartbreak as Ronnie's reply echoed throughout the room.
'Okay. Can you pick Paul up from the airport later? Work is busy xxx.''
You groaned audibly as you wiped away tears. Ronnie's response was cold and unsympathetic; plus, you had forgotten Paul was visiting this weekend. A visitor was the last thing you wanted as you mourned another baby that never was but should've been.
It wasn't long before you found yourself at the airport, checking the arrivals board as you waited for Paul to arrive. His figure was unmistakable as he exited the gate, his height causing him to tower above the numerous other passengers as he entered the main terminal and searched for a familiar face.
You smiled when his eyes grew wide as he spotted you, a look of surprise and wonderment lining his face when he approached you, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
"You'll have to put up with me today," you chuckled, pretending you weren't still hurting from this morning's discovery. "Ronnie's running late."
"Oh, yeah. No, that's fine. I mean, it's good, uh, it's okay. But, yeah, t-thanks," Paul rambled before moving awkwardly to hug you.
You let your body sag, your muscles becoming loose as he took you in his arms. There was something so warm, something so comforting about the embrace as you breathed him in. For a moment, you felt your worries fade and optimism rise in you before pulling away, unwilling to indulge in the feeling his hold offered.
The hours ticked by slowly as you returned home and waited for Ronnie. There were awkward silences and uncomfortable pauses in conversations between you and Paul as you struggled to hide your concern and utter annoyance with your husband's continued absence.
"I'm so sorry, Paul," you exasperated, almost humiliated as Ronnie ignored yet another one of your calls. "He said work was busy, but he didn't say he'd be this late."
Paul shook his head as he leaned forward in his chair. "No. It's fine. These things happen," he reassured with a genuine smile. "Look, how about pizza on me? We can save some for Ronnie."
"Oh. I shouldn't... I mean, it's really high calorie and has like, zero nutritional value."
"What are you talking about? You look amazing. You shouldn't be worrying about those things."
You glanced downward, your face feeling impossibly hot. You couldn't remember the last time you received a compliment, nor the last time you had takeout. Your diet had become so controlled and focused on eating healthily to boost your fertility that you had cut out all processed food.
"Oh, well, it's more to help conception," you gushed happily before sadness clouded your features. "But I got my eighteenth negative test this morning, so, yeah... fuck it, I guess. Let's do it. Let's get pizza."
Paul's eyes narrowed, his brows pulling down in concentration. "I'm really sorry to hear that," he apologized softly, his voice vocalizing the unfairness of the situation. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
Your eyes grew wet, and your throat thickened, making responding difficult. Paul was the first person that had asked you that question, and you knew if you opened up, it would cause a torrent of grief to course down your face, so instead, you met Paul's gaze and shook your head in response.
He offered a small smile that communicated his acceptance before mirroring your body language and changing the subject. "Well, I heard you're kicking ass at your job. How's that going?"
---
It was almost midnight by the time Ronnie arrived home, that the sound of the door opening hardly stirred Kylo as he laid peacefully next to Paul.
Your husband's late arrival caused your temper to spark as you swiftly excused yourself from the lounge, leaving Paul and Kylo unattended.
"What time do you call this?" you challenged bitterly as Ronnie crossed the threshold.
"What? I told you work was busy."
His carefree attitude caused a fit of growing anger to pulsate through you. "It's almost midnight! You've been gone since this morning, and Paul's here! You knew he was coming this weekend."
"Would you at least let me get in the door before biting my head off?" Ronnie exasperated, sighing heavily.
"Well, if you had been home at a reasonable hour, I wouldn't be biting your head off, now would I?!"
Ronnie pinched his lips together and raked a hand through his hair before glancing toward the kitchen. "Pizza? Since when did you start eating pizza again?" he questioned, deflecting the issue as he stalked toward the takeout box.
"It was Paul's treat; I guess he wanted to make me feel better or something," you defended. "Which is way more than you've done today. You're lucky we didn't give your share to the dog."
"You know that shit's no good for Kylo."
"Are you serious?!" you fumed, mouth agape. "You care more about the damn dog than me these days!"
Ronnie's jaw tightened as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You know that's not true."
"Do I? Because I'm not so sure," you challenged before continuing. "Eighteen negative tests, Ronnie! How many more am I goin-"
"WE," Ronnie interrupted abruptly.
Your mouth clamped shut, your eyes meeting his before continuing. "How many are WE going to endure before you agree to get checked?"
Ronnie's eyes pinched shut as he rubbed his temple. "No. I'm not getting checked. We've discussed this a thousand times already. I'm not doing it."
"You're a selfish bastard, you know that?!" you exploded, boiling with anger and frustration. "I've undergone every fertility test, external and internal ultrasounds, numerous blood tests, and all I'm asking you to do is masturbate into a damn cup!"
"I'm not a sperm machi-."
Your body shook with rage as you cut Ronnie off and continued your rampage. "Why are you being so fucking stubborn?! My body's been treated like some damn science experiment trying to discover why we can't get pregnant, so a self-administered happy ending doesn't seem like a big deal to me!"
"No. It wouldn't, would it?!" Ronnie retorted with a heated glare. "You're so obsessed with getting pregnant that you've never once stopped to consider my feelings, my emotions."
"What emotions?! You only seem interested in protecting your ego - and at the expense of our future family, might I add."
Ronnie's chest expanded as his shoulders pulled back. "I've done everything else you've asked me to do," he argued before gesticulating furiously. "I've changed my diet, I've cut out alcohol, I've taken every goddamn supplement you've told me to, and hell, I've even avoided overheating my balls."
"And it's still not enough!"
"Nothing I do is ever enough!" Ronnie shot back. "You're a spoiled brat. I've given you everything you've wanted from day one, and you always want more."
You pressed your lips together as your eyes glistened with the threat of tears. "I just want a baby!" you cried with desperation.
"WELL, YOU CAN'T HAVE ONE!" Ronnie yelled, slamming his hand on the kitchen worktop, his words cold and exact and striking your heart like a thousand daggers.
Your face crumbled, a great sob escaped you before running down the hall and in the direction of your bedroom. You were filled with a deep, achy sadness. You desperately wanted a baby, a family - to be a mother, and now you questioned if your husband had ever truly wanted it too or if it had all been a lie.
----
Wailing and suffering echoed throughout the house as Ronnie ran a remorseful hand over his face and sighed deeply. He hadn't meant to say what he did, nor for it to sound so hurtful. There was so much he wanted to tell you, so much he wanted to explain - he just hadn't found the words yet.
The sound of Kylo's whining followed by Paul's attempts at comforting the canine promptly pulled Ronnie from his thoughts, shamefully reminding him that he had company. In another situation, he would've rushed to your side and apologized profusely, but he knew you needed time alone.
So, instead, Ronnie sheepishly headed toward the lounge and entered the room with his tail between his legs, feeling more dog than Kylo as he sat down.
"Sorry about that," Ronnie muttered, offering a tight-lipped smile toward the pair before holding his hand out in greeting toward Kylo. The dog lifted its head from its paws, its eyes downcast as he sniffed at the air briefly before departing Paul's side and slinking out of the room. "Oh. So, apparently, I'm an asshole," Ronnie cursed, watching as Kylo headed toward your bedroom. "Traitor! You wouldn't have a home if it weren't for me!"
"Woah. Okay, calm down," Paul advised, drawing Ronnie's attention. "I knew you guys were having trouble, but I didn't think it was this bad. What the hell is going on?"
"She's become obsessed! She's unbearable," Ronnie replied, clearly irritated as he twisted the wedding ring on his finger. "I'm sick of pregnancy talk, scheduled sex, and eating spinach. I fucking HATE spinach."
Paul furrowed his brow, propping his chin on his hand. "Have you told her that?"
"Well, no, but..." Ronnie faltered. "She's just being difficult and uncompromising."
"And you're not?"
Ronnie pursed his lips and glared at Paul with a tension-filled expression. "No. I've done everything she's asked, haven't I?"
"Except the most important thing."
"It's complicated," Ronnie muttered, darting his gaze.
Paul opened his mouth to speak, then paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. "Do you even want a kid?"
"Yes, of course, I do," Ronnie insisted with a lingering sadness in his eyes. "I probably want it more than she does."
"Then what's the problem?" Paul shrugged, holding out his palms as he straightened in his chair. "Go and get checked."
Ronnie opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find the right words. Truth be told, he was pretty sure what the results would show; it was something he'd been battling alone for months now. "It's not that simple," Ronnie sighed, hesitating briefly before speaking again. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Wh-what's the likelihood of Centerville having an effect on my body?"
Paul's mouth parted as he attempted to process the question. "I'm not sure, Ron," he answered honestly, his voice heavy. "There haven't been any formal studies - you're the only living survivor."
"Cause, I, uh, I think it has...I think it's impacted my, er, fertility," Ronnie sighed, his eyes misting over as a slight relief washed over him; it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders after finally saying the words out loud. "And how on Earth do I tell her that?"
"Well, you won't know for sure until you get checked out."
Ronnie chewed the inside of his cheek. "That's the thing. I don't want to know."
"I don't understand?"
"It took me a long time to learn to live with the guilt, the failure, and I did things, a lotta things I wasn't proud of," Ronnie replied with a strained voice; he hated how even after all this time, his past still had a way of affecting his future. "And, I'm just... I'm terrified of it triggering my PTSD."
Paul leaned forward, keeping his body language open. "Understandable, but you're stronger now."
"But, what if the test confirms there's something wrong, and she leaves me because of it?
"She wouldn't do that."
"Or, what if it causes me to spiral again? I hurt her so much in the beginning, and I can't put her through that again. "
Paul's lips twisted as he considered Ronnie's concerns. "Okay, I get that. But, what are you gonna do? She wants a family."
"I know. I have an idea."
---
After the darkest of nights, the sun began to rise on the horizon, spreading warmth against your cheek as it illuminated the blues and turned them to a radiant gold.
The house seemed impossibly quiet as you shifted in your spot, noticing how the bed was still made up on Ronnie's side and how Kylo's sleeping spot was now vacant. You briefly wondered if you were home alone before a stomach-churning feeling overwhelmed you; had Ronnie left?
Your worries quickly faded when your husband timidly entered the bedroom, carrying a breakfast tray with your favorite homemade chocolate chip pancakes and a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
"Peace offering?" Ronnie mumbled, his eyes heavy with regret as he placed the tray at your side and sat on the edge of your California King.
Your mouth set in a hard line; you were still overwhelmed by the pain from last night. "Where's Paul?"
"He's taken Kylo out for a walk; it's just us here. So we can talk... if you want to?"
Your eyes narrowed as you reached for the coffee, desperate to feel human again. You felt utterly repulsive, the pizza from last night making your body feel heavy. It didn't help that you smelt terrible too after sleeping in your clothes, and your face was still puffy from crying yourself to sleep.
"I'm not sure what we have to talk about?" you questioned. "You clearly don't want kids."
Ronnie sighed heavily. "I do, desperately."
Your eyes widened at his admittance, your brows furrowing in confusion. "Then why won't you get tested?"
"I guess I'm just terrified of what the results will show," Ronnie revealed. "Afraid you'd leave me if I, uh, couldn't y'know? Cause you want a baby."
Your mouth twisted as you reached your hand out towards him. "I wouldn't leave," you reassured, with half a smile. "Even IF the results revealed something, we'd face it together... you and me against the world, remember?"
You both glanced towards the framed image of the constellation that hanged on your bedroom wall. It was a map of the stars from the night you had met, a sentimental gift from Ronnie in the beginning, a comforting reminder that the stars had aligned when you met each other - like your love story was unavoidable.
"I miss you... I miss us," Ronnie breathed. "And, sometimes, I feel totally powerless and ineffective. I promised I'd give you the world. Vowed on our wedding day to provide for you, and I've felt like such a failure. I've not felt that way since Centerville an-"
"Shhh," you whispered. "I understand, and it's okay. We've both been unbearable these past few months."
"I'm sorry for what I said last night," Ronnie apologized, his eyes misting over. "It's just... I never think you want to have sex with me for me anymore. I think you think that I'm just a sperm machine, without emotion."
You glanced downward with guilt before moving the breakfast tray to the floor and motioning for Ronnie to move closer. "I'll admit, I've not had the energy to think about you and your feelings recently. I have been self-absorbed in my desperation and grief, but if you're going to get tested now, then I think things will be better."
Ronnie lifted himself from your embrace and shook his head. "I-I'm not getting tested."
"I don't understand? I thought we just agreed to face the results together?"
He pressed his lips together. "It's fairly obvious I'm not working. We don't need a test to confirm that. Plus, I'm convinced the results would trigger my PTSD, and I don't want that. I've put you through enough already."
"But don't you want to know for sure? Claim back control?" you questioned, confused. "What if it's an easy fix?"
Ronnie ran a hand through his hair. "Angel, it was bad enough living with the fact that I couldn't save lives in Centerville. I don't want the confirmation that I also can't create a life because of what happened."
Your eyes prickled with tears. "I understand that, Ronnie. Truly I do. But what are we going to do? I still want to be a mom."
"I know that, and if a baby is really what you want, then we could look into a donor... or something? We could find a profile that's as close of a match to me as possible, and I'd love the kid as my own."
"But, I want your babies."
Ronnie smiled wistfully. "I know you do, and I want that too. But sometimes, we don't get what we want."
Your stomach sank as you began to realize that the option of having your husband's babies was becoming more and more unlikely. You were sure if he just agreed to get checked, the results wouldn't be as bad as he was imagining, but you also knew you couldn't force him to get tested, and at least, he was now offering you a compromise.
"And, you would be willing to do that... for me? Even if it meant the baby wasn't biologically yours?"
Ronnie leaned toward you and nodded. "It's why I was late home last night; I was researching. And, I think if we went down the donor route, we could become parents fairly quickly. We have the money to make it happen, and if we make a decision quickly, we could even do it your next cycle."
"Really?"
"Yes," Ronnie assured, the corners of his mouth lifting. "There's a fertility clinic right here in Orlando. We can request an appointment today if you want?"
Your eyes softened and filled with an inner glow as you leaned your forehead against Ronnie's, stroking his face tenderly before locking your lips with his. In an instant, you felt your body release the tension it had been holding and fill with an overwhelming excitement for the future instead.
"Let's do it," you beamed, unable to conceal your delight.