Inconceivable! (36 page)

That night, I lounged on the couch in our den with my laptop open. I was reading up on the best food to eat when you’re trying to get pregnant. I paused momentarily to give my two cents on whether Kendra27’s pregnancy test looked positive. After the requisite five minute wait, she’d snapped the plastic case apart and pulled out the test strip. (This had become one of my go-to moves, too, when I thought there might be a hint of a second line.) With the strip exposed to fluorescent lights in her basement, she’d taken a photo. Then, she ran the snapshot through several different filters, and posted the results on the discussion boards. You had to hand it to the sepia filter. It made faint lines on pregnancy tests look bold and solid, the kind of positive result I dreamed about getting.

I really liked Kendra27, even though I knew her only through the online community. She said she lived in Virginia near D.C. I told her I was an ex-pat living in Europe. That’s about all I could reveal. So few people knew what was going on with our attempts to get pregnant. Tilda was a part of the inner circle, and so was Astrid. She scheduled the appointments, and most importantly, kept me secretly supplied with embarrassing quantities of pregnancy tests. Our royal guards knew about our appointments with Dr. Dreesen, but John and I trusted them. They knew everything about John’s family and said nothing.

“What are you doing?” John crept up behind me and I nearly jumped through the ceiling.

“Nothing! Just reading.” I started to close the laptop lid.

“Wait. What’s that?” He leaned over the back of the couch, pushing the lid open.

He skimmed the messages from Kendra27. “Please tell me she doesn’t know who you are.” A low angry tone crept into his voice.

“Of course not! I just need to talk to someone who understands how I feel because, apparently, you don’t get it.” Without warning, hot tears streamed down my cheeks.

He walked around the couch and remained standing. “Maybe I don’t get it because you’re keeping secrets from me. Why didn’t you tell me you had a positive pregnancy test in December?” His nostrils flared.

“Look, you do
not
know how it feels. It’s my body every month that screams, ‘YOU FAILED’ in big, red, angry gushes.”

“But you had a positive test in December. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what? That I had a positive test for an hour and a half? I called Dr. Cloutier’s office when the second test was negative. The nurse said there was nothing they could do if it was a miscarriage.” I nearly choked on the last word.

John sat beside me, wrapping me in his arms. He pulled me to his chest. “Shh. Look. It will happen. I know it will.”

I tried to believe him.

About ten minutes later after our mini fight, John went to the kitchen. While he was out of our bedroom, I snuck in and retrieved his mother’s journal. I took it to the den and slipped it under one of the couch cushions. When he returned, he kissed me goodnight before heading into our bedroom and closing the door. I waited about fifteen minutes before sliding the journal from its hiding spot underneath me.

Flipping through the pages, a splash of red caught my eye. I stopped and went back to it. She’d written the entry in red ink. The slant of the handwriting made it look angry.

September 21, 1988

Why isn’t my body cooperating? My period came today with a vengeance. It was three days late this time, and I thought for sure there was a baby growing inside me. Leo says if I don’t get pregnant soon, I’ll have to take medication to move things along. I’ll do everything in my power to make this happen. He looks at me as though the waiting is breaking his heart. I can’t stand the thought of disappointing him.

I flipped ahead, my heart pounding in my chest. It seemed John and I weren’t the first royal couple to experience fertility problems.

December 30, 1988

Happy (Almost) New Year! We’re in Phuket with Leo’s mum for the holiday. Such a beautiful country. I could live the rest of my days at this beach. I’m glad to get to relax before I begin taking the new fertility drug. Dr. Cloutier says it will boost my ovulation and dramatically increase our chances of conception. I’m so excited I could be pregnant and holding my first child in the New Year!

John was born October, 1, 1989. I did the math and scanned the entries for late January until I found it.

January 25, 1989

It happened!!! We went to the doctor early this morning, and they confirmed I’m pregnant! I’ve felt cautiously hopeful the last few days because I’ve been ill in the morning and my period was due last Saturday. Leo was with me when the doctor delivered the news. I’ve never seen him look so relieved. The doctor said my due date is October 1, and I should come back in a few weeks for a check-up.

Punctual from the start, John had arrived on his due date. That was the last entry in the book. I wondered if she had bought a new journal to track her pregnancy, and if so, where she’d squirreled it away.

Maybe we’d also find a pill or procedure that would help us get pregnant. I felt hopeful as I thought about our next doctor’s visit. Dr. Dreesen would know why we weren’t getting pregnant, and she’d have a plan to fix it.

I was lying in a funny position. My neck rested at an odd angle and my hands were splayed across my lower abdomen. The energy of life pulsed inside it. I slowly moved my hands over my skin. As though they were endowed with the power of ultrasound, my hands revealed the grainy picture of the baby growing inside me, projecting it onto the wall. I saw the little body in its reclining position. The flow of energy from my body to his showed up as a pulse on the ultrasound image. I felt so alive and so did my baby. What would happen if I reached inside my belly and touched it?

At that thought, my eyes shot open. My hands were still moving across my abdomen. I’d fallen asleep on the couch. In a panic, I jumped up and searched for Princess Beatrix’s journal. I grabbed it and hid it under the couch before turning off the lamp and going to the bedroom.

Tiptoeing to my nightstand, I opened the drawer and pulled out the plastic cup Dr. Dreesen gave me, the one intended for John. I set it on top of the table next to my glasses.

Burrowed under the covers next to my husband, I rode a fresh wave of hope brought on by how real and vivid my dream had been.

Instead of hopping out of bed, I stayed still, going through my plan one last time. John usually woke up shortly after I did, so I waited. In a few minutes, he rolled over toward me, moaned softly, and yawned. I migrated my right hand toward his side of the bed. It made contact with the front of his sweat pants, a thin barrier between me and the hardness underneath. We were facing each other, and at my touch, his eyes drifted open.

“Good morning, wife.” A sweet smile spread over his thick lips.

“There’s something I need you to do. And if you’ll let me help, it will be so much fun,” I said, encouraging him with my hand.

He inhaled deeply. “I’ll do whatever you say.” His eyes closed in a moment of pleasure.

My right hand stayed busy while the left reached over to the nightstand for the cup.
Hatty 1, Infertility 0.

John opened his eyes, catching a glimpse of the cup. “Okay?” I wanted him to acknowledge that he was on board with this.

He sighed, then smiled. “Let’s do it.” He brought me close. Our lips converged moments before he moaned. Then, he whispered, “Anything for you.”

e have your results.” Dr. Dreesen sat down behind her desk, looking at the computer screen, which she kept turned away from me and John.

“Your sperm count is well within normal ranges. The motility is good and the morphology is also normal. So, no problems there.”

Relief washed over John’s face. At the same time, I must have turned green because I knew the blame rested on me.

“Hatty, all of your labs were normal. There are no areas of concern at this point.”

“But how is that possible if I’m not getting pregnant?”

“We call it unexplained infertility. We just don’t know what’s preventing you from conceiving.”

“Can I ask a blunt question? Am I too fat to get pregnant?”

“You’re not fat. You’re in the upper range of what’s normal for your height and build. Compared to most women in Toulene, you have a larger frame, but your weight is fine and it’s not impacting your fertility.”