Every Wrong Reason

Fiona stood up with a gurgling baby in her arms and I felt myself start to glow. “Gimme gimme gimme.”

She handed over baby Jonah and I cuddled him against my chest. Babies had the best smell. A

Fiona looked a little lost with nothing to hold or scold. Her eyes moved around my entryway and living room, looking for something new or breakable she should put up, out of her children’s reach.

She had always been remarkably beautiful. Her long hair was a soft, supple brown that fell in the kind of glossy waves that belonged in a shampoo commercial. And her eyes were the same rich, coffee-with-cream hue. She’d put on some weight since having her kids, but it looked good on her. It gave her that curvy, pin-up girl figure. She was one of the lucky human beings that could gain weight in all the right places. Like her boobs. I could never gain weight in my boobs. But you’d better be damn sure that was always the first place I lost it. My body hated me.

Satisfied with my preventative measures, she turned back around and asked, “But what are we going to do in five minutes when they’ve eaten you out of house and home and they’re bored with the new toys?”

“Then I have Netflix.”

“God, you’re good.”

I gri

“What kind?” She followed after me. “And are they burnt?”

“Chocolate chip. And half of them.”

“Give the burned ones to the kids.”

I laughed at her. “Won’t they notice?”

“As long as they taste sugar, they will literally eat anything. They’re like locusts.”

I whirled around and pulled her into a hug, gently keeping the baby out of the way. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you!” We released each other and she took a seat at the table, immediately pulling a few Legos to her so she could fiddle. “But I was hoping you’d put on a bunch of weight. Like at least a hundred pounds. I hate how ski

Knowing she was just being snarky, I ignored her sassy comment. “Yeah, well, divorce will do that to you.”

“I still can’t believe you and Nick are getting a divorce! It doesn’t seem possible. You guys have always been perfect for each other!”

Her words stung. There was a silent accusation there that I only picked up because I knew her so well. I focused on doling out the cookies. “Obviously not. We fought all the time. I couldn’t make him happy and he couldn’t make me happy. You haven’t been around us much in the last couple years, Fi. It’s been bad.”

She let out a patient sigh and reached for more Legos. “Come on, Kate. You know better than that. You guys weren’t perfect for each other because you never fought. You were perfect for each other because you can still love each other even if you’re fighting.”

“But I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired of disagreeing about everything, of always being on the defensive. I’m sick and tired of hating myself.”

Her gaze snapped up to catch mine and her eyes glittered with the gravity of the moment. “Then stop.”

“That’s what I’m trying-”

“No, I don’t mean get a divorce so you don’t have to deal with him anymore. I mean stop fighting with him. Stop being defensive. Stop disagreeing and disrespecting him.”

I tilted my chin stubbornly. “It’s not that easy and you know it.”

“It is, Kate. Be in control. Be in control of your words and actions. Take control if it doesn’t come naturally to you. Do something other than throw away a perfectly good man and a perfectly good marriage because you’re tired of going through what every other married couple on the planet goes through.”

Her words landed with the subtlety of an atom bomb and I wanted to dive into my cabinets for cover. How dare she. “That’s easy for you to say. You have Austin.”

Her gaze that had been firm yet gentle narrowed dangerously. “You think we don’t fight? Kate, everybody fights. Just wait until you throw a couple kids in the mix.”

Her words were like a kick in the gut and I physically recoiled. A

Fiona pushed to her feet, the chair scraping back against the floor. “Kate, I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, desperate to keep the tears at bay.

“I didn’t mean that,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean… Damn.”

Gigi and Jack giggled and scolded their mom for using a bad word, but she ignored them. She took a few careful steps toward me. Her empty hands looked emptier than usual and the anguish on her face was clear.

I held Jonah against my chest as if he could rub some baby germs off on me. Maybe if I snuggled with him long enough, held him in my arms long enough, maybe then my body would know what to do.

Maybe my uterus would wake the hell up.

“Kate, please,” she pleaded. “I’m sorry.”

Fiona and I had known each other for a long time and we’d always been straight with each other. We weren’t as close as Kara and I were, but only because we didn’t see each other every day. And Kara and I were childless; we could get together almost whenever we wanted. Fiona didn’t have that kind of freedom. So even if she didn’t know the minutia of my life, she knew all of the big stuff.

She always knew the big stuff.

Like how long Nick and I had been trying to have a baby. She was the first person and only person I told when we started trying. I hadn’t been able to hold in my excitement.

I’d thought it would be easy.

Fiona had been with me the whole time. Encouraging me. Crying out of frustration with me. Giving advice and suggesting tricks she’d looked up on the internet. And getting furious when I couldn’t stand the failure anymore.

Because that was what it came down to. Failure.

What was wrong with my body?

Why could every other woman in the world get pregnant except me?

Was this the universe trying to tell me I shouldn’t be a mother? That I was somehow unfit?

That I was somehow unworthy?

“God, Kate, don’t look like that.” Fiona stood at my side, her arms wrapped around my shoulders, her chin pressed to my temple.

She wasn’t much taller than me, but at some point I’d bowed my head and tried to curl into myself. I held Jonah against my chest and let the sorrow fill me.

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry over this anymore. I’d spilled too many tears and dealt with too much heartbreak.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to cry. It was just that it didn’t fix anything. If crying helped my infertility, I would have had hundreds of kids by now.

“It’s not fair, Fi,” I sniffled.

With the tone that only a mother can carry, she whispered, “Life rarely is.” We stood there until Jack needed his mom’s help and Gigi got restless.

Eventually, we moved into the living room where the kids could curl up with us and watch a movie. Fiona took Jonah back so she could nurse him. I exchanged a real baby for my fur baby. A

Gigi eventually fell asleep against my side and Jack wandered back into the kitchen to play Legos again. My friend’s kids were amazing. Well behaved and adventurous. They could be handfuls of chaos, but they were sweet and respectful too.

In college, Fiona had been a little wild. Even at the begi

I watched her grow from sorority girl to super mom overnight and I could not have been prouder.

I wondered if that was the difference. I wanted to be a mom, but I also loved my career. Nothing hurt more than not being able to have a child, but at the same time I couldn’t imagine giving up teaching.