“I was sorry to hear about the woman who killed herself,” Marissa said. The tragedy had been on her mind all evening. She wondered how many cycles the poor Ziegler woman had endured. Having identified with the woman, she was already anticipating the psychological effect of yet another failure. Since there had been so many in the past, she had trouble being optimistic. Would another failure push her beyond her limits?

“It was a terrible tragedy,” Dr. Wingate said. His previously enthusiastic tone became somber. “We were all crushed. The staff is usually adept at picking up such symptoms of depression. Until her outburst yesterday, we had no indication Rebecca Ziegler was so distraught. Apparently she and her husband had separated. We’d tried to get them into counselling, but they wouldn’t go.”

“How old was she?” Marissa asked.

“Thirty-three, I believe,” Dr. Wingate said. “A tragic loss of a young life. And I’m concerned about its effect on other patients. Infertility is an emotional struggle for everyone involved. I’m sure it didn’t help your state of mind seeing Mrs. Ziegler’s outburst in the waiting room.”

“I identified with her,” Marissa admitted. Especially now, Marissa thought, hearing about the woman’s marital problems. She and Rebecca were even close in age.

“Please don’t say that,” Dr. Wingate said. “On a happier note, let’s look forward to a successful embryo transfer. It’s important to stay positive.”

“I’ll try,” Marissa said.

After hanging up the phone, Marissa was glad for having brought up the topic of the suicide. Merely having talked about it eased the impact to a degree.

Getting out of bed, Marissa pulled on her robe, and went down the hall to Robert’s study. She found him seated at his computer console. He glanced up as Marissa came into the room.

“They all fertilized,” Marissa said as she sat on a love seat below a wall of built-in bookshelves.

“That’s encouraging,” Robert said. He was looking at her over the top of his half-glasses.

“That’s the first hurdle,” she said. “Now all they have to do is to get one of the embryos to stick in my uterus.”

“Easier said than done,” Robert said. He was already looking back at his computer screen.

“Can’t you be just a tiny bit supportive?” Marissa asked.

Robert looked back at her. “I’m starting to think that my being supportive and not telling you what I’m thinking has just encouraged you to keep beating your head against a wall. I’ve still got serious questions about this whole process. If it works this time, fine; but I don’t want to see you setting yourself up for another disappointment.” He turned back to his screen.

For a moment Marissa didn’t say anything. As much as she hated to admit it at the moment, Robert was making sense. She was afraid of getting too hopeful herself.