... and Baby Makes Two Read Online Free PDF Page B

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room.
So, if you're looking for
Narc-Anon,
you need to go to the
third
floor,
room H.
Okay?”
    A handful of women exited quietly, along with one very baffled-looking man.
    â€œOkay and in case you didn't know, this afternoon we'll be having a
Thinker's Workshop.
It's completely full. But if you're a
Thinker,
and you want to go to a
Thinker's Workshop,
just let me know. I'll give you the
schedule
of the
next
ones.”
    Following her announcements, the circle performed introductions that consisted of name and status: Mom, Pregnant, Trying (to get pregnant), Adopting, or Thinking. Jane soon learned that if you're not sure about anything, that means you're Thinking.
    The host of the meeting had the large group break into smaller groups, based on their status as Mom/Pregnant/Trying/Adopting. The women rose obediently and shifted their metal chairs into smaller circles. Jane felt stuck to her chair, since there was no group for the Thinkers. So she made the most logical choice: She joined the Trying group, already in progress.
    â€œSo this guy walks in and he's gorgeous, and I do mean perfect! He says, ‘Is this the allergy clinic?’And the nurse giggles a little bit because he's so damn gorgeous, and she says, ‘Sir, this is a sperm bank.’And he blushes like a virgin, I'm telling you! And he has trouble leaving. I mean he starts to go through a door
where the guys go to do it,
and he blushes even more, if you can believe it. And he finally finds his way out, and all I want to do is say, ‘Hey you! You wanna be a daddy? No strings attached! And we don't need a sperm bank—we can do it the old-fashioned way!’ ”
    The women giggled. Jane was the youngest woman in the room. She couldn't help but notice it.
    â€œSeriously, though. My cousin still has leftovers from a fabulous donor, if anyone wants any. I can get you the details.”
    A red-faced woman said, “I can't take these hormone shots much longer. They're making me crazy. Do we really understand what we're shooting into our thighs? Am I going to get cancer from this?”
    There was a chorus of Nos and Don't Even Say Thats.
    â€œI'm so frustrated. I'm losing hope. I want a baby so much. And every month, I go to Dr. Laskin and I say, ‘Get me pregnant, Doc,’ and every month I get my period again. What am I doing wrong?”
    The red-faced woman had been trying to get pregnant by artificial insemination for seven months. She was about to give up, and was considering IVF—in vitro fertilization. The woman had been doing her research, so Jane paid close attention.
    â€œMeanwhile, my mother keeps saying, ‘Isn't it funny? I got pregnant if your father just looked at me funny. If you're having trouble, you didn't get it from me.’ And my sister's due in a month, and I swear to God I'm happy for her. It's just … Anyway. My insurance will only cover three tries on IVF. I've already spent, oh, let's see, about twenty-five or twenty-six thousand dollars trying to get pregnant. The IVF is gonna be another twelve thousand, easy. This kid ll never get to college. If the kid ever gets born, that is.”
    Jane didn't know what to expect from this CSM meeting, but her nonexpectation had a pink and cheery hue. This was not it.
    The red-faced woman accepted comfort and tissues from the group. She lasered in on Jane.
    â€œHow old are you?”
    â€œI'm thirty-six. I'll be thirty-seven next—”
    â€œDon't wait. Don't wait until it's too late. That's what I did. And now I'll probably never get pregnant. I'll go bankrupt and still have no baby to show for it!”
    She folded her body over and sobbed. This time, she accepted no comfort.
    The woman with the extra sperm tearfully related the story of her second miscarriage, and Jane started to panic. She could handle sobbing, and she knew about grief. But so many of these sentences scraped against her skin. She was in the wrong place. Wrong place.