I stared at the report the doctor had handed me. “This can’t be right,” I stammered.
She sat down, a compassionate and sympathetic smile on her face. “I’m afraid it is, Mrs. Shimmer,” she said. “I ran the test three separate times.”
“But,” I stammered again. “I menstruate, I eat right and exercise. I even went vegetarian a few years ago!” I slumped forward. My world was crumbling before me.
Doctor Chantilly patted my knee. “It happens,” she said. “Infertility presents in many different ways. According to the tests run, your eggs just aren’t viable. That has nothing to do with diet, health level, or presence of menses. Many cases of infertility are simply events of anovulation, and I’ve seen several cases where women have regular cycles but don’t always ovulate in that cycle. It’s a well documented situation.”
I put my face in my hands. “But isn’t there anything we can do?”
She spread her hands. “Twilight," she said, dropping the professional front for a moment. “You’ve had two implantations fail. You and your wife both have attempted artificial insemination, with unfavorable results. There are other alternatives, but from the looks of these results, they would be unsuccessful as well.”
“But what about surrogacy?” I asked. “Or the two-ova method I read about in last months journal…”
“I can’t speak to the possibility of surrogacy outside of the legal entanglements it can cause,” Chantilly said. “And the two-ova method you speak of is still on the table at the FDA for approval. It may be time to look into other options if you wish to be a parent.”
Sunset walked in, the table set and candles the only illumination in the room. I had a platter with spaghetti and meatballs in the center of the table and had just placed the garlic bread on the table. I could still taste the faint remnants of the single zeppole I had snuck after they had finished cooking. But the food wasn’t the only thing on display, since I was wearing a dress that hugged every curve I had and accentuated my best features.
According to Rarity, at least.
“This is rather elaborate,” Sunset said as she dropped her backpack off by the door and taking in my outfit and the dinner. “Did I forget a date? First kiss, first real date?”
I slowly shook my head. “I want you to go change,” I said softly. “And then come enjoy this dinner with me. And then, well…” I smiled and batted my eyes. “We’ll see.”
She gave me a peck on the cheek as she passed by. “Don’t start without me,” she whispered.
Soon we were seated and after a few inconsequential words about our day, I asked the question I had been tumbling over all day.
“Sunny,” I said, feeling her curiosity and warmth through the bond. “I think it’s time to talk about kids.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “What about them?” she said, but I felt the humor in the bond.
I twirled my fingers in one of the side locks I left down, a habit that once showcased nervousness but now was one of my favorite flirting tactics.
“It’s just that, now that Dew’s had her baby and Cadence is pregnant,” I said. “I just wanted to talk to you about it again. We’ve kind of shelved it a lot in the past.”
She set her fork down and wiped her mouth. “Mainly because every time we brought it up, something got in the way,” she said. “That war in the Crystal Empire certainly didn’t help us out with that.”
“You’re deflecting,” I said, feeling a little irritation stir.
“No, just gathering my thoughts,” she said. “Because someone went through an awful lot of work to try and make me pliable.” She lifted her wineglass and sipped it.
“Even though they didn’t need to.”
I blinked.
“Twi, honey,” she said. “If you feel it’s time and think we can swing school and a pregnancy, then why argue with you? You know I’ve had dreams about it and we’ve foal sat Flurry Heart or River or any number of the younger fillies plenty of times. I think we can do it.”
I was just sitting in the shower that night, long after the water had run cold, just barely holding myself together as memories played through my head. I had excelled at everything in life but something I was biologically programmed to do. Built by evolution and genetics to be capable of.
I had cried all the tears I had away long before the water had turned lukewarm. Now I just couldn’t muster the energy to do any more than sit there, the cold water flowing over me.
The bathroom door opened and Sunset stepped in, her worry and sympathy suddenly cutting into my awareness through our bond.
“You ok, Sunshine?” she said softly, as though afraid to move too quickly. “Spike says you’ve been in here a while.”
“Do you really have to ask?” I whispered. “I’m a fucking wreck, so confused that I can’t properly close off our connection. You also know that today was my appointment with the obstetrician about why the implantations kept failing, so you’ve probably inferred how that went for me.”
“You’re being coldly logical again,” she said, sitting on the closed toilet seat, ignoring my uncharacteristic swearing. “It’s not as bad as all that, is it?”
“I can’t bear children, Sunset,” I said, the logic wall crumbling and tears started to flow again from whatever reservoir they hid in. “I worked so hard at everything I’ve ever done, and I’m failing at the one thing women are adapted for.”
She ripped the curtain aside and pulled me into a hug, ignoring the fact that she was still fully clothed.
“You are not a failure,” she said firmly. “You are my wife and nothing will change that.”
“But it’s true,” I whimpered. “Three times, Sunny. Three. Times. And every time it failed. And each time it was likely my damned egg that caused it. It’s my fault, and each time we tried it just wasted money that we could have used elsewhere.”
She just held me and stroked my wet hair, ignoring the fact that the shower was still running. Dully, I watched the water hit and cascade off the treated material of her jacket, the ends of her hair that dangled from her ponytail getting soaked, her tee shirt soaking through.
“Come on, Sunshine,” she said after a few moments, easing me forward. “Let’s at least get you dry and dressed. This water’s freezing and the last thing you need is a cold on top of everything else.”
Mechanically, I followed, toweling off as she pulled out the warmest clothes I had - a set of fleece pajamas that Fluttershy had given us over Christmas time. The warm feel helped warm me physically, but my heart was still a frozen rock of despair.
Arms wrapped around me and pulled me down onto the bed.
“Look,” Sunset said, her clothes swapped out for her standard night wear of a tee and shorts. “This is only another hurdle in life, another obstacle. And we’ve beaten some pretty damn tough ones in the past.” She shifted so she was slightly above me, her long hair forming a curtain of flames around us, the ends still damp.
“We’re still alive, right?” she asked. “And there are more ways than we’ve tried. There’s adoption, foster care…”
“Let me stop you right there,” I said. “Local law stipulates a minimum income for us to be eligible to adopt and foster regulations are so strict you’d think they were also making sure you took the child’s imaginary friends as well. And as for Equestrian agencies or other countries?” I shook my head. “Even foreign agencies have to obey local laws, Sunny. I’ve researched every alternative.”
“There’s something we haven’t tried yet,” she said. “And you did already start the research off by accident shortly after my Ascension.” Her grin was impish.
She rose and went into the living room, where our copies of journals were stored.
“Twilight,” I said, sitting down at the table with her and Starlight, giving a glance at my Princess wife beside me, a wing slid over my back for support.
“We’re ready.”
As my counterpart started to grin wildly, I heard a reassuring voice in the back of my head.
I love you so much, Twilight, it whispered.
And as the heat of her love washed through me, I realized that I hadn’t failed.
I just hadn’t succeeded. Yet.
