Though she knew there was no reason for it to be so, Anette could not feel the silence filling the nurse’s office to be anything but awkward. A pen held idly in her hand, she scanned the questionnaire on her lap, wondering if its contents made her husband feel as off as they did her.
*It’s not as if all those girl-couples have tried to… Conceive… Before coming here, either. “For how long…” “How many times a month…” Damn it!*
She let out a quiet, exasperated sigh, and Lars, sitting next to her, lay a reassuring hand on her thigh. Without looking at him, Anette continued filling out the questionnaire, the tension in her brow slightly softened. The middle-aged nurse had stopped typing and was looking at her phone.
*I… Don’t have to answer, if it’s not applicable. I’d rather she ask me than... Try to write it all out…*
Finished, Anette clipped the pen onto the clipboard, and as she stood up to return it, the nurse rushed from behind her desk to pick it up. Taken aback, she sat back down and looked at Lars, who extended his clipboard to the nurse without a word.
As swiftly as she had come, the nurse returned to her desk and began skimming the papers. She blinked conspicuously and wet her lips with her tongue. Her face tense, Anette glanced at her husband, who had turned to inspect an anatomical chart of a pregnant woman.
“Everything looks to be fine… That is to say… There isn’t anything that would prevent you from receiving treatment, however… If I understand correctly… You haven’t attempted to conceive before consulting us.”
*Conceive! How is it that I’m the least embarrassed out of everyone in this room to call it what it is!*
“Is that…”
“Yes. It is.”
The nurse turned her eyes from Anette to Lars, then to Anette again. She swallowed and cleared her throat.
“As a couple, are you… Sexually active?”
“We don’t have sex, if that’s what you mean.”
Anette felt Lars’ take her hand in his, thumbing her palm softly while the nurse scrawled something on a small pad on her desk. The silence had turned from awkward to confused.
“So… If I understand correctly… You wish to conceive a child, but… Without intercourse.”
“Yes. That is correct.”
“In that case, I’m happy to tell you that we offer many treatments which require no intercourse, whatsoever.”
A little snicker escaped Lars, who tried to silence himself by turning again to the chart on the wall. The humor inherent in the nurse’s response did not escape Anette either, and though still clinging to her reserved detachment, she allowed herself a slight smile.
With the atmosphere somewhat relaxed, Anette and Lars shuffled closer to one another on the small, low sofa. The nurse smiled quietly to herself while searching her computer, then swiveled the monitor around to display a selection of offered treatments, their cost off to the side in a sheepish, small font.
“As your reason for consulting us does not appear… Physiological… I think you will find our insemination and surrogacy services to be the most relevant. Both allow for the use of your own gametes, though which service you choose will depend on whether you would like to bear the child yourself.”
“I… Want to be pregnant.”
Anette pressed closer against Lars, who accepted her weight with a tender squeeze of her hand. The nurse smiled warmly behind her desk, mouthing quietly as she added a note to her pad.
“Insemination… Very good. Before starting the treatments proper, there will be a few preliminary tests. Blood work… Gynecology and urology exams… Pee work… Nothing to be concerned about, though Mr. Ahlberg should be mindful of the three day abstinence period before his examination…”
While the nurse prattled on about future practicalities, Anette found herself smiling as she looked at the pregnant woman on the wall. Her moodiness dispelled, she felt a warm glow inside her chest in knowing that soon, she too would be with child. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, squeezing Lars’ hand in hers.
---
“Anette… We need to talk.”
Though his tone was quiet, Lars regardless managed to startle Anette as she stepped inside from the stairway. She blinked, and after a pause began to take off her shoes.
“Anette?”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Lars knew she preferred peace and quiet after coming home from work, the breach of which tried the limits of her straining patience.
“Lars, I just got home. Can’t it wait?”
“It’s… Really important.”
Anette turned to stare at Lars through her foggy glasses. He was visibly anxious, as if invisible ants skittered beneath his clothes. Pity stung at her heart, and she almost regretted snapping at him.
“Just… Let me sit down and catch my breath first. I’m going to melt if I don’t get out of this coat.”
Lars nodded, and disappeared into the kitchen past the corner. Anette allowed herself a deep sigh, then let her coat slump to the floor and began to peel her scarf from her sweaty neck. The rumble of an electric kettle sounded through their little apartment.
Anette slumped down on their sofa, breathing calmly while she watched Lars fidget in the kitchen while waiting for their tea to brew. Though there was an uneasy urgency in the air, she felt nothing mattered but that she get to warm up next to her husband with a cup of her favorite tea.
“Do you want honey with yours?”
Her eyes unfocused and looking at nothing in particular, Anette nodded. After a while, Lars came and set the mugs on a little table and sat next to Anette, hands laid stiffly on his knees. Anette took a sip, then another.
“So…”
Though the matter was clear in his head, the words eluded Lars and he could merely stir quietly in his seat. Anette turned to look at him, probing him with her gaze while he sipped at his tea. Eventually, the words came to him.
“I… Got a call earlier. From the doctor.”
“…Which doctor?”
“From the clinic.”
“Right… What was it about?”
Again, no answer came, and Anette glanced at Lars. His expression was neither sad, nor angry, merely bothered, and deeply so. He took a sip of tea, and Anette did the same.
“It was about my sample.”
“…Your semen? What about it?”
“She said that… I have something called… Azoospermia.”
The word hung in the silence between them. Though Anette did not know what it meant, no elaboration was needed to know it bade ill, and as the pause grew more pregnant by the moment, an aching weight swelled inside her chest.
“She said it means there were no sperm in my sample.”
“So it’s… No good?”
As Lars nodded, Anette felt the weight sink into the pit of her stomach. They had spoken of the possibility that having a child may not be so simple, but it had seemed only that, a possibility. With a somber sigh, she laid a comforting hand on Lars’ shoulder.
“It’s… Alright, Honey. I don’t love you any less because of… That.”
“I… Just want you to be happy, Anette…”
“Listen, everything’s alright…”
“But… How can you ever be happy now?”
“…What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it your dream… To have a baby?”
Anette blinked, furrowing her brow. She brushed Lars’ shoulder and rested her hand on her lap.
“When… Did that come under question?”
“I can’t… Get you pregnant, Anette. The doctor said it doesn’t go away. I can never get you pregnant…”
Taking his hand in hers, Anette turned to Lars, looking him intently in the eyes. Lars’ distraught expression made her hesitate though her thoughts were clear. She swallowed.
“Lars… Dear. I can still get pregnant. The gynecologist told me everything looks good.”
“But what… What good is that if I’m infertile?”
Anette felt a sting of frustration at the injured remark, but tried her best to let it pass. She took a deep breath, and spoke as calmly as she could.
“Plenty of people donate sperm.”
Though Anette knew the subject would be sensitive, the depth of the silence that settled on them made her uneasy. Lars had gulped his tea down in a single motion, and sat now fingering the empty mug with an equally empty expression. The weight within her swelled again, pressing the words out through her mouth.
“Honey, I… Didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
To her surprise, Lars smiled, breaking into a warm laugh that was only partly uncomfortable. He set the mug down gently, then took Anette by the hand.
“No it’s… It’s alright. I’m… Sorry. I’m sorry for being so… Self-centered.”
“But you’re not… Self-centered. I understand. I really do.”
“It’s stupid, Anette… But… You know how I can get… Territorial…”
Anette nodded, smiling. Though she did not let him on to it, it made her heart flutter whenever that side of kind Lars reared its head. It made her feel protected, even desired, but in a way that was not unpleasant and unwelcome to Anette.
“That’s… Alright. I don’t mind.”
Without a word, Lars wrapped his arms around Anette, pulling her close to him. Gently, she put her hands on his back and ran long strokes along its length. A tear, then another fell on her shoulder, and she smiled, burrowing into Lars’ neck, for she knew them to be ones of joy.
---
“What do you think about this one?”
Anette gave her phone to Lars, who sat scrolling through his on their sofa. He took it in his hand, and the wine in his mouth seemed to turn to vinegar as he began reading through the donor information. He sighed, passing the phone back to Anette. Where could he even start?
“…West African?”
“Why not?”
“Wouldn’t someone… At least somewhat similar to me do?”
“Well… I read somewhere that couples from geographically distant backgrounds are more likely to have healthy babies.”
“But… Everyone would know that I’m not the father.”
“Because the baby would be half- West African?”
“Yes!”
Maybe it was the wine that had made her mischievous, but she did not mind him being a little uncomfortable. It would do good to explore the feelings his infertility aroused in each of them. Anette took a gulp of wine, then spoke in a calm, comforting voice.
“It’s just sperm, Lars… It will still be our baby, no matter whose gets me pregnant.”
“But… It just feels… Humiliating… Anette, to show everyone that I had to have a stranger impregnate my wife because my semen is good for nothing.”
“Please… Don’t say that it’s good for nothing. It’s just not good for… That.”
“What else is it supposed to do but get someone pregnant?”
“Lars, I… There are more important things than how fertile or not someone is… And… It makes me feel bad when you talk down on yourself.”
Lars shut his eyes and felt for Anette’s hand, squeezing it gently. She rested her head on his shoulder and stroked his palm. They were quiet for a time, and the tension that had flared slowly subsided. Anette nuzzled her head against Lars’ cheek, and stated as softly as she could.
“You’ll have to come to terms with me getting pregnant by someone else’s sperm, even if no one else can tell. You know that.”
“…I know… It’s just… It’s too much. Everyone would think that… You’re some kind of pervert.”
“All of our friends know that I’m asexual, Lars… And what would it matter what strangers think, either. This is about us and… Nothing else. And that besides, what perverse is there about West Africans, anyway?”
Lars blushed. Though she knew very well what he had meant, Anette could not help herself but poke a little secret fun at her husband. She narrowed her eyes and allowed a little smile to creep to her lips.
*Now, who’s the pervert, honey?*
With her fun had, Anette grew suddenly serious. Just as Lars, she was disappointed; not with Lars or herself or anyone else, merely disappointed, and she wished Lars could be so, too. A little pang of guilt stung her stomach. Had she been too mean? She sighed.
“Lars… I wasn’t being serious.”
“…About what?”
“The donor I showed you.”
“But… What about the healthier babies?”
“I don’t know if that’s been proven or not… And that besides, I want our baby look like you and I.”
“But… Why even suggest it, then?”
“…Why not?”
Lars sighed. Softly, he squeezed Anette’s thigh, finding his head empty. A moment passed in silence, after which Lars found himself smiling at the thoughts creeping in. *She really knows how to get me talking…*
He kissed her temple, smelling the hair flowing down his chest. Anette lifted her head, and met his lips. After a heady exchange of pecks, she sat upright, correcting her hair. Lars took his hand from her lap and set it awkwardly in his. Affection had always been a delicate thing.
“…Did you have any… Serious suggestions?”
Nodding softly, Anette turned to her phone and after a couple of taps, showed it again to Lars. Even though he had believed her, seeing the datasheet that could very well have described himself was an indescribable relief. He smiled and returned the phone.
“So…?”
“I… Think it looks good.”
“You do?”
Lars nodded, and Anette responded with a warm smile. She took her glass from their candlelit table, sipping from it with joy in her eyes. Laying down on his lap, Anette looked intently at her phone, then faced it to Lars.
“He’s exactly like you, too! Scandinavian, brown hair, gray eyes, though just a little bit taller…”
---
To be continued...