An Impossible Choice

Sometimes in life, things just seem to be so perfect, and you wonder if it’s just one of those “too good to be true” scenarios. You hear about them all the time; the perfect marriage, shattered by a cheating spouse. The couple destroyed by a death in the family, or the marriage that falls apart after the loss of a child. You hear about them, but you never imagine it’ll happen to you.

I’m here to tell you that the possibility isn’t quite as remote as it might seem. My life was grand! I was married to the most beautiful, wonderful, kind and caring woman I had ever met, I had a great job in a line of work that I considered a hobby, and we had just built our dream home on a semi rural property outside the city. I actually remember thinking at the time we moved into the house that it seemed too perfect.

I suppose that was the universe sending me one of those premonitions. “John, your life is too good. You’re not allowed to be this happy when half the remaining population lives in squalor and misery!”

Oh, right. I haven’t introduced myself. Please forgive me.

My name is John Smith. Pretty generic huh? I’m okay with it though. I’m a sports enthusiast. I live and breathe sports, so much so, that it’s what I do for a living. No, I’m not an athlete, although I am in good shape. I am a sports analyst. I have my own podcast, I’ve appeared on some small time sports programs recently, and I work for a pretty bigtime fantasy sports website as the stats guy. I run numbers and projections, and I give tips, insight, and all sorts of analysis. It’s pretty involved! It’s my hobby, and I get paid to do it!

I was just as lucky in love. I met Shannon in my last year of community college. We actually met completely by accident and if not for that chance meeting, I doubt we’d ever have found each other.

On the rarest of occasions, I decided to go mini golfing with some friends on a random weekend (I never went mini golfing). Shannon was working there as a summer job. She looked so out of place, I almost laughed. She was gorgeous! Not a girl you’d expect to see working a kiosk at a small mini golf establishment.

I never thought I’d be able to snag a hottie like her, so any nervousness I’d typically have around women was non-existent with Shannon. I playfully flirted with her when paying for my round, and went on my way with my friends.

When I returned my equipment and was about to leave, I felt her hand on mine. Glancing back at her, I noticed she had slipped a small piece of paper into my hand, giving me a shy smile. I closed my fist, returned her gaze for a second, and walked on out the door feeling like I was on top of the world!

When a girl like that hits on you, it’s a huge ego boost. Of course, the paper she slipped me had her phone number scribbled on it.

I’d love to regale you with the details of our first date and the ensuing romance, but alas, that’s not why I’m here. I can assure you, it was like a dream. We fell in love pretty quickly, and within a year, I’d decided to ask her if she wanted to get married.

Our love was near perfect. I say “near” because, well, no couple is perfect. And also, because there was one prevailing issue between us. Not an issue that threatened to drive is apart I thought, but an issue nonetheless.

Her family. As in her immediate family. Shannon had two loving parents and a younger sister. They were her world! In all my life, I had never seen a nuclear family so close to one another. So, why was this a problem? It’s complicated, but to put it all into one sentence, I’d tell you this:

I think she loved them *too* much.

That’s still sounds asinine doesn’t it? How can loving your family members too much be a problem?

For the first year of our courtship, I used to think I had struck gold. I had this unbelievably amazing woman who had a family who loved her beyond belief, and who took me in as one of their own. How can a guy ask for more than that when he’s shopping for prospective spouses?

When I made the big commitment, things changed. Marriage. It’s like that word in itself causes a shift in the paradigm of normalcy for females. Everything you know just goes out the window and something else takes over the female brain, scrambling it into something that resembles a hundred car pileup.

As soon as she felt secure in our relationship, the true nature of how their family operated became apparent to me. My mother in law was the undisputed matriarch of the family, directing the activities of the rest with a command that was simply never questioned. She was large and in charge!

Although it irked me to see it happen, I thought we were far enough removed to remain unaffected by her oppression.

I was wrong.

Like I said, my life was good. And then, one day, it wasn’t.

++++++++

It was a very average Friday morning, and I was buried neck deep in magazine articles, two televisions, my phone, and three laptop’s. This was very run-of-the-mill for me, but if a stranger was to walk in on me, they might think I was obsessed. Obsessed with sports, that is.

Honestly, next to my wife, sports were my passion. There were times she would ask me which I loved more. Her? Or hockey?

Of course, it was always her. And I believe she knew that. It was simply a matter of wanting to hear it I suppose.

I had just finished the last gulp of my coffee when the phone rang. It was Shannon.

“Hey babe, what’s up?” I said to her, leafing through a magazine as I spoke.

“John, put down your magazine! I have something...crazy to tell you!”

The magazine dropped from my fingers at the tone in her voice. This wasn’t a casual call.

“Shannon? Are you alright? Is everything okay?” I stuttered out, my nerves now on edge. I started to get up from my mess on the floor.

“Everything is fine baby,” she assured me with a slightly more level voice. “I just have something to tell you that I don’t think can wait until later.”

“Ummm, okay,” I said, knowing this was big, but feeling some relief that she was okay. Sometimes Shannon had the tendency to over dramatize things; especially over the phone.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for what she said next, though.

“Well, the thing is...” she hesitated, seeming to struggle to find the words, “...well, I’m pregnant.”

Silence. On both ends.

Shannon and I had been trying to get pregnant for three years. Of the six years we’d been married, we had spent half of them trying for a baby, and seemingly failing in our endeavor. You’ve heard the routine before: couple tries getting pregnant, finds out one of them has a “problem”, attempts fertility treatments, considers alternatives, and then finally gives up on the dream.

Shannon had fertility issues. I won’t get into details, but the jist of it was that it would be unlikely that she’d be able to conceive. It was a possibility; just unlikely.

These were the cards we were dealt. We hadn’t truly “given up”. We just changed our mindset a little. My outlook was that sex was fun, we both loved it, and so what was the harm of indulging in continuous unprotected sex with someone you love doing it with? We just lowered out expectations, and carried on with our lives.

To be frank, I never expected we’d get pregnant. In my mind, although I never said it out loud, it was a foregone conclusion. I don’t know what Shannon truly felt, because we didn’t get into it. But I have to imagine that she was equally shocked by this turn of events.

“Are you sure?” I asked awkwardly, not really completely understand comprehending what was happening.

Shannon’s beautiful laugh filled my ear, and she gently chided me, “Baby, do you think I’d be telling you this if I wasn’t sure?”

She had a point. I knew there was no way she’d even joke about something like this, given our history.

We spent the next twenty minutes on the phone crying, laughing, scheming, and loving. It was one of the happiest moments of our entire relationship, and for the first time in nearly three years, we dared to dream of the family we wanted so badly.

After Shannon hung up and returned to work, I tried applying myself to my own task at hand. But I couldn’t focus. After an hour of no progress, I packed it in for the day and decided to finish later on that evening after Shannon and I had time to talk.

Shannon got home earlier than usual that day, and as could be expected, we hugged, cried and celebrated together. The whole weekend was like a dream; like something out of a chick flick I imagine.

On Monday morning we sat side by side in the walk-in clinic, awaiting the results of her pregnancy test. Shannon had taken five of the home pregnancy tests over the weekend, and although it was pretty apparent she was pregnant, we needed to hear a doctor say it and also get an idea of how far along she was.

The doctor confirmed she was five weeks along. It actually surprised me she had made it this far without figuring out she was expecting, but to be fair, she had almost no symptoms. What tipped her off was how often she had to pee, and that her boobs were slightly swollen. She picked up a test on a whim and took it as soon as she got to work.

We walked out of that clinic smiling from ear to ear, Shannon clinging to my arm as we crossed the parking lot. We were happy. We had always been happy together, but the dream was to start a big family. We now had an inkling of that dream.

+++++++++

There was something about me that the universe just disliked. That’s how it felt to me. It seemed like whenever something went absolutely right, the universe would throw me a curve ball that would send me reeling.

Shannon and I spent the next three weeks fucking our brains out, making plans for the baby room, and buying our first baby items. We were constantly horny, we were deliriously happy, and we excitedly purchased probably more items than we should have. My favorite purchase was a cute little wash cloth set. It made me feel good just to buy something!

But, as it always seemed to be with me, that’s when disaster decided to strike us down and steal our happiness away.

No, she didn’t lose the baby. That’s the ironic part of all this.

We had known Shannon’s little sister, Ashley, had been sick for some time. It was a difficult time for her family, and had been for about a year now. Unfortunately, Ashley’s kidneys were failing slowly, and she would eventually need a transplant. She was relatively high on the list, but she had a rare blood type, and this decreased her odds significantly.

The doctors couldn’t give us a real timeline other than to day “the sooner the better”, but we all figured she had about a year before complete failure. We chose to believe she’d get a new kidney before then.

Shannon’s call came through to me early in the afternoon, and immediately knew something was dreadfully wrong from her panicked voice. My first thought was for the baby.

“Oh my god, John, Ashley’s been hospitalized and it’s not good!” she wailed into the phone. “I’m heading to the hospital now, can you come out and be with me, please?” she pleaded desperately.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” I hurriedly said, hanging up and gathering my things.

She was right. It wasn’t good. Something had gone wrong very quickly, and it was as if her timeline sped up exponentially.

Shannon was beside herself. She was basically inconsolable for the first half hour I was present. They had stabilized Ashley, but she would probably have to remain in the hospital permanently until she got a new kidney. This was the hardest part for Shannon; it made everything very real to her.

I was walking down the hallway towards Ashley’s room one evening, and stopped short when I heard Shannon’s voice from the small lunch room close by. She was talking to her mom in hushed tones, and as I was about to enter, I caught the word “pregnant”, and stopped short.

We had not told her family that she was pregnant as of yet. She was considered high risk, and we were only 8 weeks along. We did not want to jump the gun and tell our folks and then regret it should she miscarry.

I wasn’t one to evesdrop, but today something made me stop and listen.

“Oh my goodness!” I heard her mom say, “how far along are you?”

“About 8 weeks, mom.”

Something was off here. Her voice was shaky, and filled with angst. She almost sounded sad. This wasn’t how we had imagined telling her parents we had a miracle baby. I knew for a fact Shannon wanted it to be a big production with a gender reveal and all. This was weird. It made me nervous as hell.

“This is such good news, sweety! Why the long face?” her mom asked, clearly picking up on Shannon’s morose mood.

“Mom,” Shannon continued weakly, “I want to give Ashley a kidney,” she said, her voice choked with tears.

----- Record scratch ----- Uh, what? This was news to me. She had certainly never indicated to me she had a desire to be a donor. My feet almost moved forward to enter the room, but something held me back for the moment.

“Oh, baby, really?” her mom said, her voice also filled with emotion. “You know your sister would never ask that of you, right?”

“Yes, mom I know that, but she doesn’t have to,” Shannon replied quickly. “I always planned to be her last resort. Secretly, of course,” she added.

“Oh my god, wait...” her mom suddenly blurted out, as if realizing something.

“Yes, mom, I know what this means,” Shannon said bleakly.

And that’s when it hit me. Like a tidal wave of fear, pain, and panic. She was going to do a kidney transplant. That was major surgery. A pregnant woman can’t do kidney transplant surgery.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Her mom asked her pointedly.

“I’ve thought about it all week, and I’m sure,” Shannon said with sadness and determination in her words.

“Have you told John?”

“Not yet mom,” she said, “I honestly don’t even know how to break this to him.”

“Well go home and tell him sooner rather than later,” her mom encouraged. “If you are going to go through with this, you need to get the ball rolling on some things.”

“I will, mom. Thanks for listening and supporting my decision,” Shannon said, hugging her mom close, and beginning a whole new round of crying.

I was utterly devastated. I inched away from the door, and walked back down the hall as if I was the walking dead. I didn’t know where I was going, but when I stepped into my SUV, I knew I wasn’t going home. I needed to drive. And think.

As I wheeled from the hospital parking lot, I tried to process what I’d just overheard. My wife planned to abort our baby, and donate a kidney to her sister. She hadn’t even uttered a word of this plan to me, and it sounded like she had her mind made up. And I didn’t factor into that decision, apparently.

I’m not going to lie. That hurt. It hurt more than I can ever really express in words. So I won’t try.

Actually I will. What hurt, I think, more than anything, was the fact she had chose to confide in her mom with her decision instead of me. Her husband. Her life partner. The father of the baby growing inside her. What did that make me? Less than an acquaintance, in my mind.

Did my thoughts and feeling matter so little to my wife that she would pass over me in making such a monumental, life-changing decision? As if I had no right to weigh in, at the very least?

We had tried for this baby for nearly five years, and when we finally had a glimpse of our dream, she planned to terminate it without even asking my opinion.

Tears clouded my eyes as I drove. And drove. And drove. I didn’t even pay attention to where I was going. I didn’t look at the time either.

The ringtone of my phone snapped me out of my trance, and peering at the dash, I saw that it was 6 pm. I had been driving for four hours now, and I had no clue where I was.

I looked down at the phone screen on my seat. It was Shannon. Probably at home now, wondering where I was. Probably wondering where dinner was too. I knew I couldn’t face her right now though. I knew there was no way I could look into her eyes while she told she was going to end her pregnancy. I was falling apart already, and she hadn’t even spoken to me yet.

I decided I had better answer, simply to prevent further calls and worrying for her. I’d just tell her I was at the office and had to stay late. I steeled myself and pressed the answer button.

“Hey babe, how’s things?” I asked lamely. God what could I even say to her right now?

“John, where are you?” she asked worriedly. “I thought you’d be at home. Did you head into the office or something?”

“Uhh, yea, just had something come up a couple hours ago and I’ll need to be here pretty late unfortunately,” I lied. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty for lying to Shannon about this, given the current circumstances.

“Oh,” she said weakly, clearly disappointed. “Okay, I guess I’ll whip something up for dinner here then, and head back to see Ashley later,” she said. “Should I wait up for you or no?”

“Don’t wait up,” I said with a little too much edge in my voice. I think she felt it, but she didn’t comment.

“Okay, baby, I love you,” she said, her voice choking slightly. She must be thinking about what she planned to tell me when I got home. I didn’t plan on being there for that conversation tonight. But I knew eventually it was a conversation I was destined to have. And that thought killed me inside.

“Love you, too,” I replied, hanging up.

I drove for four more hours before deciding to head back towards home. I must’ve circled the city perimeter a dozen times. Since I was in no hurry to get home, and I needed gas, I stopped off at the gas station.

As I pumped the gas, I observed a couple leaving the convenience store. They were laughing about something, and he grabbed her hand, clutching to himself possessively. As she turned towards me, I noted she had a pregnant belly. She must have been 7 or 8 months along with that belly.

I couldn’t control the tears that came to my eyes as I watched the loving couple flirt and carry on. I turned away as they passed to hide my face.

I felt betrayed. Was it fair of me to feel such a feeling given the circumstances? It wasn’t that I didn’t care about Ashley’s life. I cared a lot. But I felt that at the very least, I deserved to have a say in this. And by all appearances, I did not have a say. Was Ashley’s life less important than that of our unborn child? It’s not that simple.

You see, the fetus growing in Shannon’s womb was not just the baby that we had made together. That fetus represented so much more in our lives than that. That fetus was our future, and she knew that. She had to know that! So, it crushed me to think she would throw away our future like this.

It was a near impossible situation. Losing a family member is a crushing blow, and it hurts more than one can ever imagine; until it happens to you. I’ve lost my mother, all my grandparents, and several aunts and uncles. I know what it means to lose a family member! I felt like a heel, considering whether one human being was more important than another.

But when push came to shove, I knew I considered our unborn baby more important than almost anyone on this planet. The only person that meant more to me was Shannon herself!

I started the engine, beginning my excruciating drive back to our home. Would it even feel like a home after this?

It was 11 pm when I finally opened the front door. It was quiet and the lights were off, so I figured she was already asleep. I had no desire to wake her and potentially have this conversation, so I crept around the house, trying my best to remain silent as the grave.

Shannon was sound asleep when I slipped into our bed. I could hear her steady breathing. I must’ve stayed up a full hour just lying in bed with my mind racing. I think I even went through some denial; the thought that maybe I had just misheard them, and nothing was actually going to happen. But sanity brought me back to earth and I knew I had heard what I heard. I eventually drifted off, but it was a fitful sleep.