Andy at home after her bath. He had just gotten home from a late meeting at the network.
"Hi, baby, how'd it go today?" He sounded tired, too, and at first she decided not to say anything to him till she got home, but he heard the sorrow in her voice, and wondered what had happened. "Something wrong?"
"No . . . just a long day." She tried to sound normal for him, but her heart ached. It was as though every month someone died, and she went into mourning.
"It sounds like more than that. Trouble with your crew, or the people who own the house?"
"No, no, it was fine. The woman is kind of a pain in the ass, and the photographer threatened to quit twice, but that's par for the course."
She smiled sadly.
"So what's up? What are you not saying?"
"Nothing . . . I . . . it's nothing. I just got my period, that's all. It's kind of depressing." Tears welled up in her eyes again as she said it to him, but he sounded undaunted.
"No big deal, kiddo. It just means we get to try again. Hell, it's only been six months. It takes some people a year or two.
Just relax. Don't worry so much, and enjoy the ride. I love you, silly girl." He was touched by how devastated she was each month, but he knew nothing was wrong. Besides, they were both under constant stress in their jobs, and that didn't help.
Everyone knew that. "Why don't we go away for a couple of days next month, at the right time. You figure it out and tell me."
"I love you, Andrew Douglas." She smiled through her tears as she held the phone. He was such a nice man, and he was so reasonable about her attempts to get pregnant. "I wish I felt as relaxed about it as you do. I keep thinking I should go to a specialist, or at least talk to Jack and see what he thinks."
"Don't be ridiculous." For the first time Andy sounded annoyed, he didn't want her discussing their sex life with her sister's husband.
"There's nothing wrong with either of us, for heaven's sake."
"How do you know that?"
"I just do. Now, trust me."
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry . . . I just get so upset . . . every month, I interpret every twinge, every sign . . . every time I'm tired or sneeze or have indigestion, I let myself think I'm pregnant, and then zap . . . suddenly it's over." It was hard to explain to him the disappointment she felt each month, the anguish, the fear, the ache, the emptiness, the terrible longing.
They had been together for almost three years, married for six months, and now she wanted his baby. Even the empty third floor in their house suddenly seemed like an accusation. They had bought the house to have kids, and it just hadn't happened.
"Just forget about it for a while, sweetheart. It'll happen, give it time. Now, when are you coming home?"
"Tomorrow night, I hope, if these people don't drive me nuts first."
She sighed. Suddenly, the prospect of dealing with all of them the next day depressed her even further. Losing hope again when she got her period deflated everything she did. Each month, it was a terrible loss, an emptiness she couldn't describe to anyone, not even Andy. It seemed absurd, but it was incredible how much she was affected by it each month, and then tried to overcome it, began hoping all over again . . . only to have her hopes dashed again a month later.
"I'll be waiting for you when you get home. Get a good night's sleep tonight and you'll feel better in the morning." It was so simple for him, the pat answers, the encouragement. In an odd way, she wanted him to be worried too. She wanted him to share her fears and her grief, but maybe it was better he didn't. "I love you, Di."
"I love you, too, sweetheart. I really miss you."
"I miss you too. See you tomorrow night." After she hung up, her soup arrived, but she never bothered to eat it. She turned off the lights eventually, and just lay there in the dark, thinking of the baby she wanted so much, and the bright red stain that had ended all hope of that again, for this month. But as she
"Hi, baby, how'd it go today?" He sounded tired, too, and at first she decided not to say anything to him till she got home, but he heard the sorrow in her voice, and wondered what had happened. "Something wrong?"
"No . . . just a long day." She tried to sound normal for him, but her heart ached. It was as though every month someone died, and she went into mourning.
"It sounds like more than that. Trouble with your crew, or the people who own the house?"
"No, no, it was fine. The woman is kind of a pain in the ass, and the photographer threatened to quit twice, but that's par for the course."
She smiled sadly.
"So what's up? What are you not saying?"
"Nothing . . . I . . . it's nothing. I just got my period, that's all. It's kind of depressing." Tears welled up in her eyes again as she said it to him, but he sounded undaunted.
"No big deal, kiddo. It just means we get to try again. Hell, it's only been six months. It takes some people a year or two.
Just relax. Don't worry so much, and enjoy the ride. I love you, silly girl." He was touched by how devastated she was each month, but he knew nothing was wrong. Besides, they were both under constant stress in their jobs, and that didn't help.
Everyone knew that. "Why don't we go away for a couple of days next month, at the right time. You figure it out and tell me."
"I love you, Andrew Douglas." She smiled through her tears as she held the phone. He was such a nice man, and he was so reasonable about her attempts to get pregnant. "I wish I felt as relaxed about it as you do. I keep thinking I should go to a specialist, or at least talk to Jack and see what he thinks."
"Don't be ridiculous." For the first time Andy sounded annoyed, he didn't want her discussing their sex life with her sister's husband.
"There's nothing wrong with either of us, for heaven's sake."
"How do you know that?"
"I just do. Now, trust me."
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry . . . I just get so upset . . . every month, I interpret every twinge, every sign . . . every time I'm tired or sneeze or have indigestion, I let myself think I'm pregnant, and then zap . . . suddenly it's over." It was hard to explain to him the disappointment she felt each month, the anguish, the fear, the ache, the emptiness, the terrible longing.
They had been together for almost three years, married for six months, and now she wanted his baby. Even the empty third floor in their house suddenly seemed like an accusation. They had bought the house to have kids, and it just hadn't happened.
"Just forget about it for a while, sweetheart. It'll happen, give it time. Now, when are you coming home?"
"Tomorrow night, I hope, if these people don't drive me nuts first."
She sighed. Suddenly, the prospect of dealing with all of them the next day depressed her even further. Losing hope again when she got her period deflated everything she did. Each month, it was a terrible loss, an emptiness she couldn't describe to anyone, not even Andy. It seemed absurd, but it was incredible how much she was affected by it each month, and then tried to overcome it, began hoping all over again . . . only to have her hopes dashed again a month later.
"I'll be waiting for you when you get home. Get a good night's sleep tonight and you'll feel better in the morning." It was so simple for him, the pat answers, the encouragement. In an odd way, she wanted him to be worried too. She wanted him to share her fears and her grief, but maybe it was better he didn't. "I love you, Di."
"I love you, too, sweetheart. I really miss you."
"I miss you too. See you tomorrow night." After she hung up, her soup arrived, but she never bothered to eat it. She turned off the lights eventually, and just lay there in the dark, thinking of the baby she wanted so much, and the bright red stain that had ended all hope of that again, for this month. But as she
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