21. The morning of the first injection
Shivering in the air conditioning the morning after my first appointment with the local reproductive endocrinologist, I chewed my lower lip and hit the play button on my phone again.
Yesterday, we went to the Fertility Institute and got a preliminary sense of what my ovaries were doing after the estrogen priming, which was supposed to help line up my follicles prior to stims. My right ovary hadn’t come to the party like during the ODWU in Colorado. So, my left one was pulling the weight with eight resting follicles. The right had three. My hope was the stims would help the right one wake up a little, but I certainly didn’t know if that’s how it all worked. Now, I was watching videos in preparation for my first shot of Menopur.
Spike was fast asleep in the bed behind me, his solid back firmly against the back of my hips and lower back. He could sleep through most anything, but I had my noise-cancelling headphones on just in case. I wanted him near me but not awake. Oddly enough for a vampire, he was fidgety around needles, and he avoided the piles of needles on the kitchen table like the plague. I tried not to analyze it too much; I had to focus on the task at hand: giving myself the first of many shots.
Oh, man. I’d missed the nurse’s initial instructions again. Running my finger over the video, I rewound to the beginning.
I zoned a little as the nurse explained which medications the mini-lesson was good for, and Menopur was one of them. When her voice slipped over into the list of materials needed, I touched each item I had lined up on the end table, the only spotlighted place in the otherwise dark bedroom. 3cc syringe with one-and-a-half-inch needle. It was for mixing the medication powder. Check. One half-inch needle to administer medication. Check. Water diluent and alcohol swab. Yep and yep. Powder and saline vials. Got them. Red box for needle disposal. That’s a yes.
Okay. Next, I had to uncap the tiny glass powder and saline bottles. Better not drop either or that was what? Four hundred dollars down the drain? Well, maybe not that much but in my head, the cost was close to that and astronomically high. I thumbed off the three plastic caps and made sure not to put in a lot of force because Slayer strength could lead to badness – glass and powder everywhere!
I knew what was next because it was my fourth time watching the video. Potential bottle crushing crisis averted, I swiped an alcohol swab over the tiny metal tops to sterilize them. I put the used damp square on top of the wrapper it came in and gingerly pulled the top off the needle that was already attached to the syringe. I’d learned from experimenting with the needles that jerking too hard led to skin pricking. (The offending needle was already stowed in the trusty red bin and the resulting bloody finger had found a brief home in my mouth. Somehow, Spike slept through that.)
I glanced at the video again and watched as the nurse held the saline bottle upside down and inserted the needle through the rubbery top to draw out one milliliter of saline. Then, I emptied the syringe full of diluent into the Menopur powder, gently swiveled the bottle between my index finger and thumb (no shaking!), drew out the mixed solution, and inserted it into a second bottle of the medication. Wrinkling my nose in concentration, I swiveled and pulled back again, moving the mix of saline and two vials of powder back into the syringe. So far, so good.
Detaching the larger needle, I tossed it in the sharps box. I mused briefly that no one had cornered the market on large red plastic boxes to store broken, used-up Slayer weapons for later disposal, and said weapons usually had bodily fluids on them. Biting my lip again, I attached the smaller needle until it was just tight. My heart skipped a beat because I was about to give myself an actual shot.
Following instructions, I held up the syringe so that the needle was pointing toward the ceiling and gave the plastic a couple of little flicks to get the air bubbles to the top. Then, I focused my energy on being gentle but also giving the plunger a small push to eliminate the air out of the top.
Now, for the subcutaneous injection video. This was it.
Before I could hit the back button on my phone’s browser, I felt Spike’s hand lazily encircle my hip, and I almost jumped out of my skin. The headphones fell off the back of my head as his lips softly kissed my upper arm.
“Hey, love.” Squinting against the light of the lamp, he propped up on one elbow, his bare chest and part of his torso peeking out of the blankets.
After my initial surprise, I relaxed back against his cooler skin, making sure to hold the precious medication aloft. “Hey. You scared me. I thought you were asleep.”
He yawned and nuzzled my upper arm with his nose. “Not with you watching that bloody video so many times.”
I twisted and glared pointedly at my headphones. “I thought you were noise-cancelling.”
Moving his hand from my hip, Spike lifted the expensive pair of not very attractive ear muffs. “This bit of technology is not good enough to prevent a vampire from hearing what you’re hearing, love.”
I ran my left hand through his tousled, un-styled curls. “Sorry I woke you. Want me to do this in the bathroom?” I didn’t really want to go. The bed was cozy, and the bathroom had more hard surfaces for disaster to happen upon.
Spike sat up further, giving me a nice vantage point of his abdomen as he propped a pillow up behind his back. He was still beautifully toned, his pale skin revealing the muscles under the surface, but like me, he was no longer overly sleek – well, overly thin. I loved the extra weight to his body, especially on top of mine. He kissed my palm as I dropped my hand and said, “No, no. Stay. I’d like to watch.”
I was sort of surprised, but I stuck to not questioning. “Okay.” I shifted around so that I was sitting cross-legged facing him.
Spike studied my face as I pushed play on my phone. The nurse’s voice sounded tinier in the space of our bedroom, but she was clear. Shot-administering was seemingly easier than med mixing.
Straightening my back, I pulled up my sleeveless pajama top and pinched a fold of skin with my left hand about an inch from my belly button. Holding the needle at what I guessed was an approximate forty-five-degree angle (geometry was a long time ago), I took a deep breath and inserted the needle through my skin. It turned out to be as simple as pushing a needle through skin to stitch up my own wounds, only a lot less painful. I slowly injected the medication into my body, breathing out as I removed the needle.
“Well done, pet,” Spike said as I tossed the first of many syringes where it landed with a clatter in the sharps box.
I grinned at him. “Thanks. Wasn’t so bad. The Gonal F one is similar. But the trigger shot. I might need your help for that one.”
“The Gonal F is for tonight, right?”
“Right. That and the Clomid and the steroid pills. But for now?” I leaned over and pressed my lips to his, slipping into a familiar but brief preview of what I was about to do to him. I felt a small thrill of desire course through my body. “Since I can no longer have coffee or anything remotely caffeinated.” I raised both eyebrows at him.
“Even chocolate?”
I sighed with faux-dejection. “Sadly, yes, even chocolate.”
He caressed my cheek. Then, he drew my head down, kissing my forehead and nose with deliberate slowness. “Poor pet.”
“Yes. Poor me.”
He ran his hand over the goosebumps on my bare arms. “And you’re freezing.” He lifted up the covers and slid down onto the soft mattress.
I followed suit until my body was on top of his, and he tucked the blankets around my shoulders. Resting my chin on the back of my hands, it was my turn to yawn. Ignoring the beginnings of my caffeine headache, I commanded, “Wake me up and warm me up.”
Spike smirked. “Bossy bint, aren’t we?”
I returned the expression. “Of course.”
“You’re wearing too many clothes. Can’t do my assigned task with so much fabric between us.”
“Never stopped you before.”
With a growl, he flipped me on my back so that I shrieked. Then, he divested me of every stitch of clothing before I knew what was happening and proceeded to more than warm me up with his undivided attention.
I sighed happily. We wouldn’t be doing this for a while after my ovaries got bigger – something about a risk of twisting that sounded extremely painful and was pretty dangerous. Screw shots and IVF, I intended to make the most of. . . whatever Spike was doing down there.
22. The fifth night of no sleep
I laid in bed next to Spike who was sleeping again. I studied his still form and wished beyond all wishes that the Sandman would come by and sprinkle some sleepy time dust in my eyes and take me to dreamland. Of course, the Sandman was probably some vicious demon that ate children’s souls for a midnight snack, but that was beside the point. Heck, I’d take the arrival of this evil Sandman over lying in bed, watching my vampire sleep.
I sighed and flicked my phone screen on again. Rolling onto my back, I pulled up a specific app and tugged the not-quite-noise-cancelling headphones over my ears. The familiar sound of electronic monsters filled my ears. At least the game passed the time. This was my second time through. Last night, I’d curled up in Spike’s recliner and wasted the wee hours playing the game until I defeated it.
Staying in bed with Spike for my second time served more than one purpose. First, the bed was way more comfortable than the recliner. We had the softest pillow top mattress, and my pillow was just the right amount of yielding and firm. Plus, there were blankets galore to keep me and Spike warm. But still, sleep eluded me. Speaking of Spike’s presence, I knew that playing the game in bed would rouse my slumbering partner. After all, I’d recently learned that my headphones totally failed at cancelling noise.
Right on cue, Spike shifted behind me, turning to face me in a half-drowsy motion. He emitted a small groan and gathered me into his arms so that my back was aligned with his mid-section, a place I dearly loved to be. Snuggling my hips close to his, I felt him rouse more, but I continued to poke at the squawking, moaning machine in my hands.
Spike lifted one side of the headphones from my ear. “What’re you doing, love?” His voice was slightly rusty with lack of use.
“Playing,” I said simply, focused on not losing one of my defenses to the creatures attacking them.
“Guess the better question is what the bloody hell are you playing?”
The last monster fell. Yes! Level passed. I held up the tiny screen, so Spike could see, too. “Plants vs. Zombies. It’s fun.”
Spike took my phone and studied the app. “Why are you playing it now when you’re supposed to be sleeping?”
“I dunno. Can’t sleep. Fifth night in a row.” After the second night of little sleep, I’d done a Google search to try to figure it out. “I think it’s the steroid. I wish I didn’t have to take it at night. One of the side effects is insomnia. And I’m so awake.” It was true. My brain didn’t feel remotely drowsy despite my body’s best efforts to convey exhaustion.
“Let me guess. You can’t not take it, so I can get some shut eye?”
“Yeah. Asked my nurse, and she said to keep taking it at night.” I’d been having calls with my nurse, Elaine, two or three times a week for the past few weeks. She always answered my questions or allayed my fears; she was kind of like a nurse, pathway to the doc, and therapist all rolled in one. She’d laughed when I told her so. “Dr. Google says it’s to help egg quality or prevent inflammation of ovaries or various other theories. Who knows? I’m taking it. Hence, awake Buffy and zombie slayage.” I sighed.
“And you’re playing in here because?” He wasn’t irritated and sounded more amused than anything.
I stroked the back of his hand which was still around my waist. “Well, I did play it in the living room last night. Defeated the big bad at the end and everything.”
“And you’re playing it again, why?”
“Hey, can’t take the Slayer out of the girl. Risk of ovarian torsion, so no patrolling.” Or. . . other ways of relaxing. “So, zombies! And the plants are kinda cute.” I pointed at the phone screen. “The little green guy shoots pods out of his mouth.” I frowned. “Apparently in this game, plants have mouths. I know Venus fly traps sorta do, but I don’t think these are those.”
Spike snorted softly. “Sentient Audreys killing brain-eating zombies, eh?”
“Yep. Well, one of them eats the zombies. In one big gulp.” I turned onto my back, and Spike freed his arm.
Handing my phone back to me, he felt around on the end table next to him and brought up his phone. “What’s it called again?”
“Plants vs. Zombies. Go back to sleep,” I said, half-hoping he’d ignore my command.
So, of course, he did. “You wanted me up. I’m up. Gonna play with you.”
I set aside my phone and turned toward him, cuddling my mid-section against the side of his torso, pushing my leg against his, and laying my head on his chest. “Okay. Download it!”
He turned his pillow sideways, bending the cushion in half to prop us both up a little. “Already downloading. Hold your horses.”
Speaking of horses. “Did you call and remind Leah that we’re going out of town?” He’d taken that task off my list of things to do like pack for our flight to Denver tomorrow. . . well, tonight.
“I did. Lil bit is disappointed that she can’t spend the night on Friday.” Spike opened the now downloaded app.
Ever since Crystal had her baby, Leah spent the night with Spike and me every Friday night we had off. We’d cook dinner (usually mac and cheese or pancakes or both), watch movies (usually the Silver Stallion – Spike and Leah liked the chase scene especially), play games, and even paint our toenails. Spike always let Leah try to paint his fingernails – black, of course. She wasn’t too good at handling the small nailbrush, but he never complained when paint ended up on the sides of his fingers or bubbled up when she layered it a little too thick. She was still obsessed with horses, too, and she always brought along her toy horses, including Frank. She and Spike would turn the living room into a barn and fields in which the very intelligent horses had adventures.
“You told her we were going on vacation, right?” I didn’t want Leah to know what we were doing. She was too little to understand IVF, and if the process didn’t work, I didn’t want her to be disappointed or upset. She still wanted us to have a baby and periodically continued mentioning the subject.
Spike typed his name in the app. “Told her we were going to Colorado. She asked me to bring back some snow. Don’t think she knows that it doesn’t snow there in the summertime.”
“Thanks for doing that. Maybe we can find her a horse for her collection.” There had to be toy stores in Denver. Maybe one had evening hours.
“Did you find out if you can take the meds on the plane?” Spike asked as he poked around in the game.
“Meds and needles are a go. I have a letter from the clinic, too, if TSA needs to see it.” I’d purchased a little soft-sided cooler to bring on the plane. No way was I putting the very expensive meds in the suitcases we planned to check. Who knew that needles and all kinds of things were allowed on board? I’d also read that security might examine the medication, mostly to ensure the frozen packs were actually frozen, but I wasn’t sure why that was important.
He paused in his game exploration to gently rub my sore abdomen. “How’re you feeling?”
Between the Menopur and Gonal F in the morning and evening respectively, my torso was a patchwork of bruises despite my best efforts to vary the location of the injections. “Bruises from shots are fading. I heal quick, remember?”
“Know that, love, but hate seeing it anyway.”
He’d kissed my belly after my latest round of shots before we went to bed. We couldn’t do much in the physical intimacy department, but he was still tender and affectionate, which I found myself cherishing more than normal because my emotions were all over the place. Sometimes, I felt confident and hopeful, but today, I’d felt more than a little discouraged because I’d had my second ultrasound and bloodwork at the local RE’s office. While the follicles were growing evenly with the medication, my right ovary was still being a reluctant participant, and no new follicles had shown up. Still, the clinic in Colorado gave us the go ahead to fly out tomorrow. We would be taking the earliest dark evening flight, and I’d start daily ultrasounds and bloodwork in Denver until time for the trigger shot followed by egg retrieval. I didn’t think much beyond that because it made me anxious.
His words and my thoughts led me to kiss his chest. I loved him so much for being there with me. “So, you ready to play?”
He turned his attention back to the game and pushed the screen where it said, “Adventure.” “Teach me, love.”
We spent the rest of the night playing Plants vs. Zombies. Spike periodically cursed at the “bloody zombies” and the “fragile-ass bits of chlorophyll,” which made me laugh and him grump at me.
23. The night of the Garden of the Gods
“What are you doing?” I asked bemusedly as I settled onto the sofa in Dawn’s apartment. My lower back was sore and oddly slightly heavy, probably because my ovaries were growing with the stim medication.
Since arriving in Denver, Spike and I had been staying with Dawn in her apartment since her roommate was out of town for the summer. We’d been keeping busy and distracted by letting Dawn play tour guide in the city and the surrounding areas. We’d just gone on an evening hike through the Garden of the Gods, which was usually only open until seven in the evening. However, Dawn had a friend who was a naturalist interpreter, and she enlisted him to lead us on an after-dark nature walk through the park to see the giant beautiful red rock formations.
Now that we were back at the apartment, Spike was trying to sneakily peer out the window, pushing aside the heavy curtain just a crack to squint into the night. “Nothing. Just checking.”
I tried not to snicker. “Checking what?”
“Making sure the Bit is safe,” he said distractedly.
“I’m sure she walks her boyfriend to his car on most evenings without incident.” I kicked off my shoes and swung my legs up to lie down on the couch. Much comfier.
“You see?” Spike emitted a low growl. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? She’s seeing him to his car. The git.”
I rolled over on my right side, tucking my arm under my head, and took in my vampire’s rigid shoulders. “I’m sure he walks her to the door and makes sure she’s safe when we’re not here. You know why she’s walking him out tonight, right?”
“If he lays a hand on her. . .” Spike trailed off, opening the curtain wider.
“You’re so going to see kissing. And I’m very sure that Dawn wants him to lay his hands on her,” I noted. “Plus, they probably know you’re watching. Mr. Obvious with the curtain. It’s dark out there and light in here.” Only a lamp was on, but it was still brighter than the dimly lit parking lot.
Spike backed away then, letting the drapes fall back into place. “Right. Still don’t like it, and if she’s not back in ten minutes, I’m going to go –”
I patted the sofa cushion next to me. “No, you’re not.”
Mindful of my soreness, Spike gingerly sat down, the disgruntlement was strong on his face. I rubbed his thigh, and he relaxed under my touch. “You don’t like Thomas, do you?”
He gave me a what-do-you-think look but then asked, “It’s that obvious?”
“Um, yeah. You kept glaring at him while we were supposed to be gazing at the ancient rocks and listening to Mark.” Mark had been a wonderful tour guide, describing the history and discovery of the site while sprinkling in tidbits about geology. With their unusual patterns and shapes and with their sheer size, the rusty red formations were beautiful and somehow elegant even without sunlight shining on them. A lot of them had names based on what other people saw in the various shapes – nature’s Rorschach test. My favorite, by far, was the kissing camels. “They were pretty amazing.”
Spike softened as he gazed at me. “They were. Not much surprises me, pet. Not after having lived so long, but being in the middle of something, seeing what Mother Nature has created? That still gets me.”
“Something about the scope of what it probably took to create them?” The irony of the parallel to our own situation was not lost on me.
“Yeah.” He picked up my left hand and kissed my palm. “How’re you feeling?” This was a question he was asking a lot lately. He could tell when I was hurting. Something about his vampire senses must detect when my gait changed or when my facial expressions shifted slightly. Or maybe it was just Spike being his observant self.
“Good. Sore but good.” The subcutaneous shots were now quick and easy, and I’d even added a third with Ganirelix to prevent me from ovulating all the growing eggs. (That particular shot burned going in.) So far, my daily ultrasounds showed that eleven follicles were growing with some consistency, and my bloodwork was trending in the right direction. Our early morning re-group meeting with Dr. Surrey had been hopeful as well. Because I was fairly young in the infertility world, he expected that my eggs would be decent quality despite my borderline FSH, and he predicted we would likely do well given that Shane’s sperm also came from a younger man. The one thing Dr. Surrey wouldn’t let me do is take the steroid in the morning. Darn it. Though the meeting had provided temporary reassurance, I was still nervous.
Seeming to pick up on my renewed tension at his query, Spike ran his hand around my hip with a gentle, light touch. “Good. We’re going to rest the next couple of days until retrieval. No more playing tourist.”
Smiling, I moved my hips a little under his hand. “Is that an order?”
He lifted both eyebrows in a don’t-fight-me-on-this fashion that I’d come to associate with Spike meaning business. “Yeah, love. It’s an order.”
“Now who’s the bossy one?” I pouted. I was secretly relieved though. Spending all day curled up in Dawn’s bed under the covers sounded good. Dawn had loaned me and Spike her bed and was sleeping on the pull-out bed in the sofa. Even though I still wasn’t sleeping well with the steroid, I was tiring more easily and was grateful for the extra effort my sister was making to make me comfortable. That was one reason why I didn’t want Spike to give her such a hard time about her boyfriend. “If I’m going to do as ordered, you need to be nicer to Dawn about Thomas.”
“He has a part time minimum wage job, and the layabout doesn’t do anything all day but play video games,” Spike protested.
I pushed my lips to one side. “And you seemed perfectly happy to partake of said video games all day today. What was it that you spent hours playing with him?”
“Super Smash Bros. takes skill,” he said, still with the defensiveness. “And we had to beat the blokes in Kansas.” At my confused expression, he added, “Where Dorothy’s from.” I made a bigger face at him, and he realized what I was asking. “You can play online with people from anywhere, love.”
“Oh.” I paused and then asked, “And did you talk with Thomas while you played?”
“Of bloody course!”
I laughed a little at his sudden burst of passion. “And you concluded that he’s not good enough for Dawn?”
“He lets Dawn take care of him financially. . . at times, and he has no goals for the future.”
“All right, Dad.”
Spike huffed at how casually I was taking this. “He doesn’t appreciate her. Not enough.”
“In case you didn’t remember, neither of us is exactly CEO of a giant company or rolling in dough.”
“That’s totally different,” he scoffed. “CEOs of companies aren’t out helping fight the forces of evil in the world. They aren’t saving the world from bloody apocalypses!”
“Or saving drunk tourists from the fate of staggering onto an isolated street off Bourbon and being eaten by vampires?”
Spike softened. “Exactly. I just want Dawn to be –”
“Cherished and loved the way you love me?”
“Yeah.”
The sound of a throat being cleared from the direction of the front door interrupted the flow of conversation between Spike and me. Dawn smiled at us but mostly gazed at Spike with a kindness that I hadn’t seen in a long time. “Thank you.”
Spike shifted next to me. “For what, Bit?”
“For caring so much about me.” Dawn’s eyes softened with tears that didn’t fall from her eyes.
Spike was clear, “Never stopped.”
Dawn pushed one hand in the pocket of her jeans and shrugged a shoulder. “I know.” She shut and locked the door with her free hand. “If it helps, I’m not serious about him. He’s not serious about me. It’s just that he fits for right now. I’m busy with school, and –”
“And I’m going to take a shower,” I announced, pulling my legs up and maneuvering around Spike. “You guys should talk.”
Neither of them protested this, which secretly pleased me. As I headed into the bedroom, Dawn called after me, “Clean towels are in my closet. Top shelf on the left when you open the door.”
I didn’t even glance back, afraid to jinx the impending bonding between my lover and my sister. “Got it.”
After my purposefully long but lukewarm shower (exposure to hot water was sadly a no-no during IVF), I changed into my pajamas and wandered back into the living area, feeling refreshed. The lamp was dark, but the kitchen light was bright, and I found the pair of them sitting at the table and chatting away the way they used to. . . the way I’d caught them laughing and happy in the kitchen with Mom back when Glory was a threat and before Mom had died. . . before I’d died and come back.
Spike smiled at me as I entered the room, and this time, I felt nothing but love in my heart for him, which was a stark contrast to how the me of long ago felt. I suddenly had the urge to tell him how much I cared about him, to reassure him that he was my only. Instead, I asked, “Watcha doing?”
Dawn held up her mug. “Having hot chocolate like old times. Want some?”
“I’d love some.” I made a face. “Oh, wait. I can’t. Stupid no chocolate, no caffeine rule.”
“Oh, yeah. I have Sleepy Time tea. Tea sans caffeine.”
“Perfect.” I briefly wrapped my arms around the back of Spike’s shoulders and pressed my cheek against his before sliding into the seat next to him. As Dawn rose to fix me a cup, I decided that even if the IVF cycle failed, the renewed camaraderie between my sister and our vampire was worth it and left me more breathless with hope than the giant rocks we’d seen earlier in the evening.
24. The day of the unexpected trigger shot
My cell rang, startling me out of my half-doze on Dawn’s sofa. I sat up abruptly, pushing my hair off my forehead and rubbing one eye. Where’d I put my phone? Patting the blankets of my cocoon, I first found the remote. Damn. I flicked off the muted TV, cutting off an infomercial about some product called Shamwow that was neither sham-y nor wow-y. My right hand discovered the phone near my hip. Someone from the clinic was calling. A nurse called every afternoon with the latest on my bloodwork for the day and medication dosing for the evening and next morning.
Clearing my throat, I hurriedly swiped right to answer before I missed the call. “Hello?”
“May I speak with Buffy Summers?” the woman’s voice was direct and revealed little emotion.
“This is she.” I reached over for a pen and stack of post-its on the end table, uncapping the pen with my mouth, so I’d be ready to write down the directions.
Instead of the usual niceties like stating her name or asking about my day, the nurse launched straight into, “Your LH has spiked, and you are in danger of ovulating. So, we need you to do the trigger shot right away, and we need to schedule you for an early morning retrieval.”
“W-what?” My head spun. My LH had been trending nicely in a non-spiky way and wasn’t the Ganirelix supposed to prevent ovulation? I also just spent a few hundred dollars to have an extra dose or two of Gonal-F, and I’d almost gotten lost on the University of Denver campus because the tiny pharmacy that sold fertility drugs was located on the edge of the school grounds. The retrieval was planned for Wednesday, not Monday. Spike and I had just talked about calling the airport to reschedule our plane ride home because I was stimming for an extra few days.
My mind whirled with all these details, so the nurse brought me back by saying, “Buffy? Do you understand the directions? You need to do the trigger shot now.”
“I-I thought I was supposed to do two triggers.” I had HCG and Lupron triggers, which were supposed to help the follicles and eggs mature for retrieval 36 hours later.
“No. You’re only going to do the HCG,” she said matter-of-factly.
“O-okay.” Spike appeared in the living room from the bedroom where he’d been reading. His blue eyes were full of questions. I ignored him because I couldn’t focus on anything but the current conversation in my current state of overwhelm. “What happened? Is this common?”
“All you need to know is that you have to do the trigger shot now, and then, you’ll go to the clinic tomorrow morning. They’ll do an ultrasound to determine whether you’ve ovulated. If the follicles are still there, you’ll have egg retrieval then.”
“There’s a chance they might all be gone?” Panic was settling into my chest.
“Yes. Do the trigger shot and come in at 6:30 AM.” The nurse sounded annoyed.
I felt dizzy. I had been planning to review the video for the trigger shot a few times before I did it. “Okay.”
The nurse hung up without saying goodbye. I lowered the phone and stared at the screen, unsure what just happened.
“What’s going on, love?” Spike asked from the doorway.
I finally glanced up at him; he was worried. “I have to do the trigger shot now because I’m apparently about to ovulate.”
“What does that mean?” He approached me and sat on top of the blankets next to me. I let him take my hand, and I tried to focus on his familiar touch.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “She said that we have to go in tomorrow morning. They’re going to do an ultrasound to make sure I haven’t ovulated all the eggs, and then, if I haven’t, they’re going to do the egg retrieval early, which doesn’t make sense because doesn’t the trigger shot need 36 hours to work?”
Spike didn’t answer this question because he obviously didn’t know the answer. Instead, he said, “Do the trigger shot, pet. I’ll call Shane.” Shane was in town to provide his sperm sample. We’d considered the option of freezing his sperm and having it shipped, but the doctor said he preferred a fresh sample along with frozen backups, so Shane and his daughter flew into Denver a few days ago. He already provided his backup sample. Though he wasn’t spending time with us because we still hadn’t decided how to integrate our lives yet, he and his daughter were making a fun vacation out of the trip.
I nodded, feeling a weird mix of numb and anxiety that leaped in my chest, and opened the internet browser on my phone. “I have to watch the video.”
He kissed my temple. “Okay. Which medication is it?”
I went to the clinic website and medication training videos. “The HCG.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“Thanks. It’s in the plastic bag with the needles.” I’d already organized the medication, putting the trigger shot medication in its own separate bag with the appropriate syringes.
“All right.”
Spike left the room as I tried to pull up the video. The website seemed to be down. What? Now of all times? In frustration, I closed the browser and reopened it. Same broken link. I rebooted my phone. Nothing. I glared at the phone and willed myself to not throw it.
Spike found me with a cross expression. He set the bag of medication next to me. “What’s wrong?”
“The stupid website is down, and I can’t get the video to work. Uggghhhh!” I dialed the clinic even though I knew I’d only get the after-hours menu. Pushing through the buttons to get to the operator, I explained the situation. The guy I spoke to was much friendlier than the nurse had been. Stupid nurse. He said the nurses were still there making calls, and he’d have someone call me back.
I waited for the call, staring at the screen and willing the phone to ring. I could hear Spike talking to Shane in the other room. My phone sprang to life, and I half-jumped out of my skin. “Hello?”
“Hi there. Is this Buffy Summers?” This nurse already sounded kinder.
“Hi and yes.” I blurted out my predicament without even letting her reply. “I have to do the trigger shot now because I’m about to ovulate, and I can’t get the training video to pull up.”
The nurse didn’t miss a beat. “Are you trying to pull it up on your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Try the computer. Sometimes the videos don’t work on the phone browsers.” She’d obviously heard about this problem before.
I shot to my feet and ambled over to the kitchen table where I’d left my laptop. Flipping the monitor up, I tried to pull up the clinic website. Nothing. Damn it. “It’s not working.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure why. Okay. Try this. Open up YouTube.” The nurse then proceeded to guide me to a working video about how to administer the trigger shot on the Freedom Pharmacy channel.
“Yay! It works,” I said, pausing the video.
“All right,” she said. “Good luck. We’ll see you tomorrow morning. Try to do something to relax this evening, okay?”
“Okay.” My mind was already focused on what I had to do next. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. Bye.”
I hung up the phone, picked up my laptop, retrieved the meds, and headed into Dawn’s bathroom.
“You need me, love?” Spike called after me.
I was a Slayer on a mission. “Nope. Wish me luck.” I peeked back at him. He was still on the phone with Shane.
He cocked his head and smiled encouragingly. “Good luck. You got this.”
“Thanks.” I shut the door, so I could block everything out and focus.
After watching the video once through, I laid out all the supplies: alcohol swabs, HCG vial, water vial, syringe, two needles (one for reconstitution and one for administration), and gauze pads. I pressed play again and slowly followed the steps, pausing the instructions along the way to complete each one. With shaking hands, I drew out the water, added it to the HCG, gently moved the bottle back and forth to mix it (no shaking!), drew out the medication mix, and finally attached the administration needle.
I forced myself to take a few deep breaths, focusing on the air moving in and out of my lungs while I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. You got this, Buffy.
Then, I pulled down my yoga pants slightly, swiped an alcohol pad over the upper quadrant of my buttocks, and let it air dry. Uncapping the needle, I twisted around slightly, spreading my skin the way they did in the video, counted to three while holding the syringe like a pencil, and plunged the needle quickly in. I felt a slight sting but overall it was okay. Then, I awkwardly drew back the plunger to check for blood. No blood. Thank god. Before I could think too much, I slowly eased the medication into my muscle. Once I pulled out the needle, blood welled, and I fumbled for the gauze, pressing it against the tiny wound.
I did it! I grinned at myself in the mirror, feeling a little thrill of exhilaration.
After disposing, of all the supplies and closing up the computer, I reentered Dawn’s bedroom where Spike was watching expectantly. “How’d it go?”
I flopped on the bed, the adrenaline draining away and leaving me exhausted. “It’s done. Hold me please?”
Spike settled down next to me and spooned me, running his hand over my belly and kissing the back of my head. I settled against him with a sigh. “I’m so scared.”
“Aw, pet, I understand.” His voice was calming in my ear. “Shane is ready. He and his daughter were visiting Buffalo Bill’s grave and are going to Casa Bonita for dinner, but he said to tell you that he’ll be there in the morning.”
“Oh good. Can we do something distracting tonight?”
“Like what, love?”
“Coffee shop?”
“Thought you couldn’t have caffeine.”
“I’ll have caffeine-free tea again. Maybe they’ll have some board games there? I can’t think but mindless distraction would be nice.” My usual methods of distraction were off limits, and even if they were allowed, I’d be too anxious even if Spike did his best.
“We’ll bring Dawn along.” He paused and added, “Without bloody Thomas.”
I couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay.” I liked this plan. I needed my family.
25. The evening in the coffee shop
Taking a sip of my now lukewarm mint tea, I studied the board and tried hard not to think about whether my lower back still felt sore and my insides slightly heavy because if they didn’t that could mean. . . Spike had two red kings and one more potential king while I had four black king-less pieces trying to dodge Spike’s kings within the confines of what felt like a very small space. Deciding to take one loss in favor of a small victory, I slid one of my pieces into his territory. “King me!” I said with forced triumph.
Spike ignored my tone in keeping with Mission Distraction. “Fine.” He took one of his earned black pieces and balanced it gingerly atop mine. “You’re still doomed, love.”
“Well, now I have hope! Now, it’s not just you chasing me all around the board in the most frustrating hunt ever,” I noted.
He lifted an eyebrow at me. “Chasing your bits around this board is hardly the most infuriating way you’ve evaded me.”
I knew he was referring to the past but in a playful way this time. Reaching over, I ran my fingertips lightly over the back of his hand. I nodded toward the black piece that was his for the taking. “As far as I’m concerned, you can have all my bits, including that one there.”
He smirked at me before hopping my sacrificial piece and removing it from the board.
Sitting in one of the comfier chairs nearby, Dawn looked up from the thick book she was reading and shook her head at us. “Only you guys would make playing checkers have a double. . . no, a triple meaning.”
I smiled at my sister. “Remember, you promised to play the winner.”
Dawn made a less-than-thrilled face. “Oh, shoot. I have too much studying to do.”
Spike peered over his shoulder at her. “Not too much studying to play a game with Big Sis. I need a break.”
“He has played like a million games,” I added.
Spike rubbed his temples with his fingertips. He picked up his thermos of vampire nourishment and poured more into his empty Starbucks cup, replacing the lid to hide that what he was drinking was far from coffee. “It bloody well feels like it.”
“Hey, you’ve won most of them!” I pointed out.
Twisting a strand of hair around one finger, Dawn yawned. “You haven’t made it to a million yet. I’ve been counting.”
Standing, I tentatively stretched, trying again not to focus on how my insides felt. Denial Buffy came in handy sometimes. “I’m going to get more tea, and then, I’m going to come back and kick your ass,” I informed Spike, leaning over to softly kiss him on the lips.
“Like to see you try,” Spike drawled.
I imitated his seductive tone. “Oh, you just wait!”
“That’s it!” Dawn said in a mock irritated tone, clapping her book shut. “I’ll play next.”
“Yay!” I said, grabbing my phone and empty cup.
“Thank god.” Spike groaned. His evident relief made me smile. He scooted his chair back and tugged a cigarette free from the pack on the table. “Be right back.” The two or three cigarettes he’d smoked since the earlier phone call from the clinic were the only evidence that he was as nervous as me.
The good humor lasted about twenty seconds as I stood in line for more water and a new tea bag. Anxiety’s persistent fingers wrapped around my stomach and heart and squeezed as I watched the guy in front of me hem and haw about how many shots he wanted in his latte so late at night and whether he should have an extra pump of vanilla. My phone vibrated in my hand just in the nick of time. A quick glance at the screen told me that Xander was calling me.
Without thinking, I answered. “Hey! What’s up?” Still with the false levity.
Despite the dwindling communication between us over the years, Xander picked up on the note of deception in my voice. “What’s wrong, Buff?”
“Nothing. At Starbucks in Denver. How are you? How’s the Norfolk vampire population?” Several months had passed since the problem was identified, and Spike and I had spoken with Giles about our discovery. Giles had handled the situation with Xander and the Slayer coordination beyond what was done the night we’d met Shane.
“Much more under control. They have their own Slayer now. Giles sent Carrie over from England.”
I hadn’t heard of Carrie but was sure I’d met her at some point. “Is she adjusting okay?”
“Yeah. She’s older. Was about your age when the whole thing in Sunnydale went down. Has a background in Tae Kwon Do. She’s been teaching the younger girls a thing or two about fighting technique, and they’ve been helping her with the cultural stuff. We have weekly Skype calls.” The dreamy edge in Xander’s tone was a familiar one and told me that he was more than a little smitten with her. I decided not to call him on it, partly because I didn’t want him to call me on my bullshit.
“That’s good. Still not sure why you’re calling me.” Nice deflection, Buffy.
“Can’t an old friend call up another old friend without being tied up and interrogated?” Xander joked.
The Starbucks cashier gave me a tired glance, and I held up my empty cup, mouthing “water” at her and then showing her my teabag wrapper to indicate I wanted another of the caffeine free variety. “Well, it has been a long time since you called. Texting, yes. Calling, no. A girl’s gonna be suspicious.”
“Suspicious of me?”
“Uh huh,” I said a little too brightly.
Xander took a deep breath. “Well, a little birdy told me that you were doing something in Colorado besides visiting the Dawnster.”
Sliding my credit card to the barista, I held the phone by tilting my head and hiking up my shoulder. “Is that little birdy named Willow?”
“That’s the one!”
Pocketing my credit card and picking up my steaming cup of hot water and the tea packet, I readjusted the phone and left the line behind, sneaking a glance at Spike through the glass window. He was sitting with his legs splayed in one of the chairs outside, staring into the night, not smoking like he said he was going to. I felt a pull in my chest and suddenly wanted to check on him. “Easy guess.”
Xander plunged onward, sounding a little awkward. “She said, well, that you are having surgery. That you have to be put under.”
“People go under anesthesia every day,” I reassured him. No need to fill him in on that there might not even be an egg retrieval. “And it’s not for very long. Twenty, thirty minutes tops.”
“Still. It’s a surgery. I won’t pretend to understand all the ins and outs of what you’re doing, but you going under. . . I just wanted to say good luck. And I love you.” The layers of what Xander wasn’t saying were not lost on me. I knew he wanted me to be happy and that if being with Spike made me happy, Xander supported me. He’d said as much when Spike and I officially became a couple, but there would always be an edge that Xander couldn’t quite work around in his mind. I wondered what he really thought about me and Spike starting a family.
“Love you, too.”
Dawn looked up from her new position at the checkers board and mouthed, “Who?” while pointing at the phone.
“Text me or call me or send a carrier pigeon and let me know that you’re okay?” Xander asked.
“Will do. Here, talk with Dawn a minute.” I passed the phone to my sister who regarded me with wide, what-the-hell eyes. “It’s Xander,” I said to her.
Her mouth made a little “o,” and she accepted the phone. “Hey, Xander!”
Leaving the water and tea bag on the table, I wandered out the front door and perched on Spike’s vacant knee. Though he continued to stare out into the dark, his arm slipped around my waist, and while he’d usually pull me closer, he was gentle now just in case. “Penny for your thoughts?” I asked softly, the irony of the question not lost on me.
“The mountains are beautiful,” he murmured.
With the faint glow of the city lights, I could still make out the ridges and giant angles of the mountain range in the distance. “So much different than home where we live in a swamp.”
He chuckled. “True that, pet.”
“That’s not the thought I was going for though.” I turned without twisting and studied his face, which was a little inscrutable.
He sighed. “Feels like we’re at a crossroads of a sort.”
“How so?”
“It’ll go one way or the other tomorrow, I suppose.” He meant we’d either have eggs or we wouldn’t. “And I’m trying to figure out how I’ll feel one way or the other.” Lifting his arm from my waist, he stroked the back of my hair. “’Suppose it’ll be okay either way.”
He was keeping his face purposefully neutral, so I caressed his cheek. “It’s sorta like we’re holding our breath tonight.”
“Right.”
“If I forget to tell you, thank you.” I kissed his forehead. The whole journey so far forced me to face things I never thought I’d have to face, and each time, I chose Spike again and again.
His eyes slipped into question marks, which was better than unreadable. “For what, love?”
“For being in it with me. Even when it’s hard.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.” Being there for me was what he’d always done even when he didn’t realize he was doing it. He deserved to have it marked.
“But I do. So thank you.” I stood and took his hand in mine. “C’mon. Watch me kick my sister’s butt at checkers.” This time my smile was genuine.