4
Cady
I make it all the way to the parking deck at work and pull into my allotted space before I lose it. I turn off my car as the hot, salty tears begin to spill down my cheeks.
The goal, of course, is not to cry at all… but if I’ve got to do it, this is the place. Alone in my car, in the dimness of the parking lot, I am safe. I lean forward and rest head on my arms, which are propped on the steering wheel of my Mercedes. As I cry, my tears drip down onto my lap, wetting my white silk dress.
I am crying because I just came from seeing Dr. Altman, who is my reproductive endocrinologist AKA my fertility guru. Unfortunately, no matter how nice she is, there isn’t a good way to phrase my situation. I saw Dr. Altman’s mouth moving, but all I heard was, “YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME, CADY!!
