Page 9 of Deprived No More

Looking over at the toast still sitting atop the tray on the chair, I quickly walk over and nibble the corner. “Yes, some of the toast you made.” I wince. I hate lying to him, but His uneasiness is almost palpable.

“Okay, please take some more Tylenol and drink plenty-”

“Uh, Nick…”

“Yes? What?”

“You realize I work in an ER, right? Last I checked, you deal with bones. I love you but save your doctorly advice for one of your patients.”

“Well, someone sounds like her old self.”

“I told you, I’m fine. Now I’m going to lie back down and rest until the kids get here.”

“Okay, babe. Please let me or Dad know if you need anything.”

“I will. I love you.”

“And I love you,” he says as I hang up the call and lie back down.

Ugh, this sleep shirt is soaked. I decide to take another shower and change into something that will feel cooler against my skin than this cotton one clinging to me. Retrieving a pink satin cami and a pair of matching pajama bottoms, I return to the bathroom to try and cool myself down before taking another nap. As my clothes fall to the floor, it dawns on me how incredibly quiet it is. This house is never silent unless everyone’s asleep.

Stepping into the spray, I’m suddenly feeling emotional that I only have a year left here with Olivia before she’ll be starting kindergarten. My kids are growing up way too fast. In the blink of an eye, Grace will be in middle school, and this house will seem so empty. Sure, I could return to working full time, but I like picking them up and ensuring their assignments are complete. Finding out about their day. My shifts are often twelve to fourteen hours long when I’m working. Depending on the assigned shift, I may not see my family for more than a few moments each day.

Tears start to tumble. Why on earth am I crying? I have a beautiful home, amazing kids, and a husband to die for. Am I having a midlife crisis? Most moms would be excited to have free time available during the day. I rub my hand over my barren pelvis, knowing how my body betrayed me all those years ago. Between my ectopic pregnancy and the large ovarian cyst, I’d lost any ability to have biological children. I hadn’t made provisions for harvesting my eggs.

I couldn’t love my kids more if I’d delivered them myself, but there’s always been a part of me that yearns for a child with Nick’s beautiful green eyes and my dark hair. That still yearns to have a newborn created from our genes. Even if I couldn’t, a surrogate could carry a baby made of Nick’s genetic material and a donor egg.

Why am I torturing myself? I’m sure most women who’ve dealt with infertility struggle with these thoughts. I’m not unique. Yet, it seems odd I still feel this way after being blessed with four children.

Turning off the water, I step out, towel dry, and don my sleep clothes. The satin brushing against my still heated skin is definitely an improvement. Strolling to the kitchen, I fill a large insulated tumbler with water and ice.There, that should stay cold a little longer.Returning to my bed, I place the drink down and lie back against the pillow. I’m barely there a minute before I’m pulled back into a deep slumber.

I barely have the energy to reach for my water as the familiar feeling of sandpaper invades my mouth. Instead, I continue to lie here, spread like a starfish across the king-size bed, hoping the air will cool my overheated skin. What time is it? How long have I been out this time?

As my eyes slowly accommodate the sunlight pouring in to the room, I jump when they land on a tall figure standing at the end of the bed.

“Jonas?”

CHAPTERFOUR

Kat

“Jonas?” I yell, horrified. I quickly close my legs and look for the sheet to cover myself, realizing how incredibly exposed I am in this state.

“Oh, she’s awake,” Susanna chirps as she carries a tray I don’t recognize and places it next to me on the bed. “I told your sweet husband I’d check in on you and bring you some chicken noodle soup.”

“Uh, thank you,” I mumble, still overwhelmed by their presence in my otherwise private space. This is so awkward. Had they tried to knock, and I was that out of it? “Um, how did you get in?”

“We found the spare key under that pretend rock at the base of your steps. I don’t think that thing is fooling anybody.” Susanna laughs.

“Apparently not,” I mutter. Had Nick asked them to come inside? I barely know these people. Reaching up to tamp down my tousled hair, I give Susanna an apologetic look. Honestly, after finding Jonas at the end of my bed while I was lying spread eagle in this skimpy pajama set, I’m just trying to avoid any eye contact with him. “I look a fright.”

“Oh, Kat. You don’t feel well, and you still look radiant,” she tries to reassure me.

“That’s the fever. Trust me. I’ve been radiating all right.”

“Is there anything else I can get you?” She genuinely seems like a kind soul offering to help.

“No. I appreciate the soup, though. It looks delicious.”

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