Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(49)

Josh sits up straight then looks down at his watch. “They should call you back in a few.”

“Are you sure you still want to do this?”

I know it’s a weird time to ask this question, but this is just about the last time he can back out. Even though we’ve already signed the contract, the IVF consent forms, all the legal documentation, everything…still.

He looks over at me and I see that shadow of seriousness in his expression. “What do you think she’ll be like?” he asks.

I look at him in surprise. “The baby?”

He nods.

I get a warm, happy feeling in my chest. “I don’t know,” I admit. Then, “For years, I’ve dreamed about having a family. A baby. But I never thought about what she’d be like, or what she’d do. It’s more that I imagined the feeling. When I imagined her I didn’t picture hair color, or personality, or likes and dislikes, instead I imagined the feeling of her. And it’s like…hmm…”

I look at him to see if he’s going to laugh, or make fun of me, but he’s leaning toward me and his eyes look almost hungry. So, I continue, “When I was little, we used to spend Sunday afternoons in the park having family picnics.”

“I remember.”

I nod. I’m sure he does, he was invited to many of them.

“The thing I remember most about those picnics is the feeling. We were all there, sitting on our plaid blanket in the warm grass. Sometimes we’d crawl through the grass and hunt for four leaf clovers or we’d suck out the nectar from honeysuckle blossoms. Or sometimes we’d run barefoot through the grass and play tag. Me, Dylan and Leah would run, and wrestle and laugh. Sometimes we’d fight.”

“Sometimes?”

I snort. “Yes, sometimes. But then, we’d always finish with my mom’s fried chicken, and potato chips, and carrot sticks, and lime Jell-O. And then we’d all lay down in the grass. I’d be in my mom’s arms or my dad’s. And Leah would hold my hand and Dylan would pull my hair. And then we’d watch the clouds, every single time, we’d watch the clouds and we’d tell each other what we saw. I’d always smile up at the sky and my heart would feel so big. And the feeling of that moment, the love, the belonging, the happiness, the warmth of the sun and the smell of the grass, the sound of Leah’s laughter and my dad telling my mom he loved her, all that is wrapped up together.”

I look over at him and he’s watching me with an unreadable expression. I shrug, afraid I’ve shared too much. “Anyway, you asked what I thought she’d be like. I’ve always imagined she’ll be like that feeling. Even when she’s crying and colicky, or a teenager yelling at me that I’m parenting her wrong, or a young adult off on her own, I’ve always imagined, I’ll love her as much as any human possibly could love another.”

Josh is so quiet that I start to get uncomfortable. “Too much?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “No, Gemma. Not too much. I’m glad I’m here.”

Then, before we can say anything more, the door to the back opens and the nurse calls my name.





I wake up in the recovery area. Dr. Ingraham said the retrieval would only take fifteen minutes. He put me to sleep with an anesthesia drug and also gave me an amnesiac. He said I’d forget everything that happens for about thirty minutes after the drug was administered. That means I’d forget things even after I woke up.

I look at the clock hanging on the wall across from my bed. The numbers are a little fuzzy, but I manage to calculate that I still have about fifteen minutes of forgetfulness. I giggle. Then, I stop, because why am I giggling?

“Hey. You’re awake.”

I look over and blink until Josh comes into focus. I feel a little loopy and sort of fuzzy, like I’m still coming out of a really long, really deep sleep.

He’s sitting in a chair next to me, his elbows propped on his knees. I blink again. But Josh stays a blur of messy hair, strong shoulders, and chiseled jaw.

Mmm Josh.

“Do you know how good looking you are?” I ask, which isn’t actually what I meant to say at all. “You’re like a fairytale princess.”

“Uh…” He clears his throat and looks around the small curtained area. “Dr. Ingraham said you might need a few minutes before the amnesiac wears off.”

“I’m fine. It’s worn off,” I say, feeling irritated. “Did he vacuum up all the Easter eggs?”

Josh rubs at his chin and gives me a look full of skepticism. “He said he got six.”

Then I remember what Josh was supposed to be doing while I was under anesthetic. “Did you orgasm?”

He lifts his eyebrows, and when he goes fuzzy again a little part of my mind realizes that I’m still loopy from the amnesiac, that I probably won’t remember any of this.

“We’re all good,” he finally says.

I smile at him and want to tell him thank you, but instead what comes out is, “I probably love you.”

Josh stiffens and his face closes off. He looks away from me, up at the clock. His side profile is serious and almost…unhappy. There’s nothing of the joking, relaxed, life’s-a-lark Josh in him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Finally, he looks back at me, his expression upset. He gently runs his finger down the side of my face. “Gemma, let me know when it’s not prob—”