She scheduled another appointment with her doctor.
“Mrs. Quest,” he said as she walked in, “you’re back. Didn’t I see you a couple of months ago?” He glanced down at her file. “Yes, a physical and a prescription for vitamins.” He looked up again as he waved her over to the chair. “So how can I help you today?”
“I’m still not pregnant,” she blurted out even before her bottom touched the seat. “Doctor, it’s been seven months.”
Doctor Walton gave her a kindly smile. “Now, now, Mrs. Quest. Let’s not be hasty. A couple isn't considered infertile until at least a year without conception. Give it some time.”
“Some time?” Melanie’s eyes widened in horror. “I’ve given it seven months, doctor. And it’s been seven very active months. And nothing.”
The doctor tsk-tsked and shook his head. “I still think you’re being impatient-”
“Look, doctor, I’ll be thirty-five soon and you and I know that fertility declines steadily after that. We have to do something before there's no hope for me.”
“No hope for you.” The doctor chuckled and clasped his fingers over his white-coated belly as he regarded her with amusement. “You have a flair for the dramatic, Mrs. Quest. Things are not as desperate as you make it seem.”
“For me they are,” she insisted. “Is there a fertility clinic you could recommend, a place where they specialize in cases such as mine?”
“I really don’t think we’ve reached that point-”
“I have. I need help, doctor. Please. I’ll do anything.”
It took that urgent plea for the doctor to finally look like he was beginning to understand her desperation. The patronizing smile slid from his lips and his face grew thoughtful. “I can refer you to a clinic downtown,” he said slowly, “but you know how things are here in Canada. It may take months before you actually get an appointment.”
“What about the States?” she asked. “Surely they’d take me right away.”
“Okay, if you want to travel all that way.”
“I want to,” she said quickly. “That’s an insignificant price to pay to get the help I need.”
Doctor Walton shrugged. “Fine. I’ll have my assistant set it up at a clinic not too far from here. Boston, maybe.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“But, Mrs. Sloane, you do know that your physical body may only be a part of your failure to conceive so far. Have you been under any undue stress lately?”
“No, everything’s fine,” she began and then she paused. How could she have forgotten? The past few months had been the most stressful of her life. There was the disastrous purchase of Rapid Films, the incident with Zena, the desperate efforts to save her film division, the long nights at the office and the endless meetings. All of that must have taken a toll.
“You’re right, doctor, I have been under a lot of stress lately. But things are improving with the business.” She nodded, giving greater emphasis to her words. “I’ve put things in place to get my business back in order. It’s moving slowly but it’s coming.” Thanks to the partnership between Parker Broadcasting and Quest Media, the Rapid Films acquisition was working out to be a viable business with great profit potential. At least that was one burden soon to be off her shoulders.
She didn’t mention her other stress, the one taking place at home. Her relationship with Sloane had been a little strained and, she had to admit, it was mostly her fault. Even though it might make sense to no-one but herself, she was racked with guilt. She couldn’t help it. There were a few times as they lay in bed when Sloane had wondered out loud what it would like to be a dad. Most times his comments were in response to something she’d said about having a baby, but each time his face had taken on a dreamy look and she knew he was looking forward to a family just like she was.
And so far she hadn’t been able to give it to him.
So now, as she sat in the doctor’s office, she began to count the hours until they called and told her she could fly to the clinic in Boston to get specialist help.
Because if this barren spell went on for very much longer there was the frightening possibility that Sloane would want out.
***
It took a week before Melanie heard from Doctor Sutherland’s office regarding the fertility clinic they’d found for her and another week before she built up the courage to tell Sloane what she was doing.
“Why don’t you give it some time?” he asked. “We haven’t even been married a year.”
“Don’t you see? I don’t have time. I’m thirty-four years old.”
“Which is not old,” he said drily.
“For a woman who hopes to have kids, it is.” She threw up her hands in frustration. Why didn’t men get this? Just because they could get kids at the ripe old age of seventy it was like they couldn’t understand a woman’s sense of urgency. Jeez. “I have to do this, Sloane. It might be my only hope.”
"If you think it’s necessary I won’t stop you,” he said, “but I don’t want you to feel pressured. I’m happy to wait and see what happens.”
He said the words but she didn’t believe him. She refused to believe him. She knew he wanted this as badly as she did.
And so, early the following Monday she left for Boston to meet with a consultant to discuss her case. Sloane had offered to accompany her but she’d refused his offer. There were some battles that she just had to fight on her own.
At the clinic they discussed her options then ran a series of routine tests – blood, urine, cervical smears – then gave her an appointment for the following week to do more intensive checks. It was a week after that second round of tests that she found out – to her dismay – that she had an endometrial growth that might prevent her from ever getting pregnant.
Her heart crashed against the rocks of despair. Was she never to get her deepest wish? And how could she tell Sloane?
Melanie told Sloane that same night when she got home but it was hard. It was hard when she saw the disappointment flit across his face but it was even harder when he put his arm around her and told her it was okay.