For the six months just ending, I’ve been injecting myself with gonadotropins to stimulate my ovaries. It was as awkward as it sounds. It was all about getting good healthy eggs to drop at the right time. I’ve been working it like an Olympic athlete. For his part, Connor’s been milked like a 4-H Holstein. I, on the other hand, was turkey basted like a . . . well, a turkey.

We seriously should move out of the city and get a farm.

“You need to come in,” Dr. Y says.

“You need to tell me why,” I tell him.

Another sigh. He’s annoyed with me, but he’s a patient doctor. I was lucky to pick him.

Or was I? Maybe he’s the one who failed here.

“You know why, Kristen,” he says. “We aren’t getting anywhere.”

The ferry glides out of view. It’s a calming image. But calm I’m not.

“That’s because you’re not doing enough, Dr. Yamada. This is your goddamn fault. I should have listened to my friends. I need to try some alternate methods. You’ve wasted all my time with chemicals, pills, and shots. God! What an idiot!”

I stop. Not because I have nothing more to say, but because I want him to feel my pain.

He feels nothing.

He has four kids.

“You know that’s not true,” Dr. Y says as calmly as he can. I can picture the shock on his face at my tirade. Everything about this man is gentle, kind, and caring. But at the moment I don’t care. He doesn’t want to be a mother. He can say all the time that he understands, but he hasn’t a clue. Not really. His practice is thriving. Apparently there are a lot of empty wombs in Seattle.

I’m crying now, and I’m not going to continue talking to him.

“Fuck off, Doctor,” I say, before cutting him off and throwing my phone across the room. It bounces off the wall, just missing my JD diploma. I can hear the sound of the screen shattering. Perfect. I deserve that. I can’t even make a baby. I’m in tears now. Ashamed for what I said. How I acted. But most of all because I don’t know if that other part of me, the part that I want now more than anything, will ever materialize. I look at the time. I have a deposition in ten minutes.

The time. It’s always moving forward. It’s my enemy.