“So you heard.”
“Of course. I can only imagine how hard this is for you both, to have such a cloud over happiness you worked so hard for.”
“Exactly.” Christine sat down in a cozy conference area, with several sea-foam club chairs opposite Michelle’s sleek walnut desk. Her framed diplomas and awards lined the walls, and medical binders and textbooks stocked her bookshelves. Christine and Marcus usually had sessions in Michelle’s home office at her lovely Tudor in Rowayton, which Christine preferred. She couldn’t forget that she had been inseminated one office down, and the techs had shown her the gray cryotanks under their counter across the hall, where they fertilized eggs in petri dishes, for IVF. One of the techs had told her that there were four thousand fertilized embryos in their tanks, and that the techs had two fears; one was mixing up the embryos, and the other was dropping them.
“Thanks for coming in. I’m glad we can talk this over.” Michelle turned to Marcus, extending a hand, but he was already heading for the other chair.
“Michelle, I don’t know what good ‘talking it over’ will do.”
“How so?” Michelle took her seat opposite them, crossing her legs, which were trim and muscled. Late-day sunlight filtered into the office through blinds on the window behind her.
Marcus asked, “Aren’t you the one who talks about the ‘elephant in the room’?”
“Yes,” Michelle answered, pleasantly.
“So, there’s a question that has to be answered before we discuss our feelings. Is the serial killer Donor 3319 or not?”
“I understand how you feel, and unfortunately, I don’t know the answer to that question.”
“How typical is this that Homestead won’t confirm or deny something so basic?”
“Nothing about the situation is typical. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Christine sighed. “I’m sure.”
Marcus was shaking his head. “Really? It seems like it’s exactly the kind of thing that can happen. These aren’t gods who donate sperm, they’re just guys, mostly college kids or graduate students, whatever. They’re young guys. Things are going to happen as they grow up, criminal or not, that have to impact this process.”
Michelle nodded. “You would think that’s true, but the fact is this hasn’t happened to us before. Our task is to try to bring some perspective to the situation, even in the absence of facts we wish we had known.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Marcus shot back.
“Thank God,” Christine said, at almost the same moment, but she could see that Michelle wanted to finish a thought.
“Marcus, I understand where you’re coming from. Like most of my patients, you’re used to setting goals and arriving at them. You run a multimillion-dollar company, you’re a CEO. You’re used to a degree of control. You’ve been very successful in life, setting goals and meeting them. Is that a fair statement?”
“Yes,” Marcus answered, but he pursed his lips, and Christine knew what he was thinking. He always felt that Michelle stroked him too much, overly sensitive to the fact that his male ego was bruised by his infertility. Christine didn’t buy into the criticism because she did the same thing. She walked on eggshells when the subject of his infertility came up, a classic no-win position.
“So this situation is going to challenge you in new ways, both of you.”
“Oh it’s challenging me all right,” Marcus said, with a smirk.
Michelle glanced at Christine. “Christine, how are you feeling?”
“I’m really upset. I’m upset for me, for the baby, and obviously for Marcus.”
“And what upsets you the most?”
“It’s hard to say. Everything.”
Marcus interjected, “That nobody will answer a simple question.”
Michelle kept her eyes on Christine. “You were saying?”
“Well, I guess, first, it does bother me that Homestead won’t tell us the truth.” Christine didn’t want to begin there, but she wanted to back Marcus up. “We don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing to do.”
“I understand how you could feel that way.” Michelle’s voice remained soothing. “None of us here knows the identity of 3319. We are not withholding information from you. We simply don’t have the information, though we wish-”
“You could get it,” Marcus interrupted.
“What makes you say that, Marcus?” Michelle asked, tilting her head.
“You deal with Homestead all the time. You probably send lots of your patients there. You’re familiar with them. Dr. Davidow called Demipetto by her first name. Lee Ann.”
“And what follows from that, in your view?”
“I think you can put pressure on them to give us the information.” Marcus stabbed the air with an index finger. “I think you could say, ‘we’re not going to send you any other patients, and we’re not going to spend a single dollar at Homestead unless you give the Nilssons the information they need.’”
“You think I could do that?”
“Why not? Or if not you, then Dr. Davidow, or his boss, or whoever owns this place.”
“Dr. Davidow is the owner.”
“Fine, him then. I’d go the extra mile for one of my clients. I wouldn’t take no for an answer. But no one’s doing that for us, or even offering to do that.”
Christine cringed at the accusatory tone in Marcus’s voice, which though it was controlled, was plainly resentful.
Michelle leaned back in her chair. “Marcus, how do you feel about that?”
“How do you think I feel? What difference does it make how I feel?”
Christine felt torn, understanding his frustration but not wanting to alienate Michelle. She turned to Marcus. “Babe, this is a discussion we should have with Dr. Davidow, don’t you think?”
Michelle smiled at Christine, in a pat way. “Christine, thank you, but you needn’t come to my aid.” Then she turned to Marcus. “However, I do think we’re getting off track-”
“No, we’re finally on track, if you ask me. As for how I feel, I would say I feel angry. Angry enough to do something about it.”
Christine swallowed hard, but having been signaled not to interrupt, stayed quiet.
“Marcus, we’ve talked before about how infertility issues have been a challenge for you as a couple, and you, in particular, because you tend to assume the role of fixer, as many men do. This may be a situation which you can’t fix.”
“That’s what you think. I’m not going to let my wife go through what she’s going through. I’m not going to put myself through this either. I will fix the situation.”
Michelle sighed, her tanned shoulders going up and down, once. “Please, let’s start over. I feel as if we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Fair enough?”
“Suit yourself.” Marcus sat back in his chair. “It’s your bus. You drive it.”
“Marcus, I’m here as your therapist and Christine’s. I’m on your side.”
Christine felt tears come to her eyes, knowing it was true. Michelle was always on their side, even through the hardest times, and she’d helped both of them. Families First had made her a mother, but she wouldn’t say that aloud, right now.
Michelle continued, “If you remember in our earliest sessions, we talked about the importance of acceptance in dealing with infertility. That you accept the situation you find yourself in and try to find solutions from there.”
Marcus snorted. “Doesn’t ‘find solutions’ mean fix it?”
Michelle shook her head. “No. It means, accept what there is and move forward. My job is to help you understand, both as individuals and as a couple, what will make you feel better and most comfortable, going forward. That’s how you arrived at your wonderful solution, which was to use a donor, so that you both could experience the joys of pregnancy.”