Incompatible.
Infertile.
Undesirable for adoption.
Childless.
I cannot sleep. The words refuse to leave my mind. Like a stuck record, they just replay over and over in my head. Each repetition is more painful than the last.
It's late in the night. I sit up in bed, with only the moon casting any sort of light in the room. Beside me, Clark sleeps fitfully. Even in the dark, I can see the tight lines of grief marring his features. I reach out and lightly caress his cheek. That seems to comfort him a little and some of the lines on his brow smooth out once more.
Clark.
My husband.
The man I should be raising children with.
The last child of his Kryptonian family.
It isn't fair.
Clark is the type of man that deserves to be a father. He's the type of man that any woman would dream of raising a family with. He's gentle and kind. He's the most patient, most loving man I've ever known. He has the biggest, most compassionate heart. Even without his powers, he is the best man I have ever known. Even without his powers, he gives of himself freely to others. Even without his powers, everything about him is super.
It isn't fair.
The world needs another Clark Kent.
There is an ache deep within me. It comes from everywhere and suffuses every part of me. Silent tears slip down my cheeks as I gaze at my husband. It shatters my soul to know that I can never give him a child. I feel such guilt. I know how he's always wanted to raise a family of our own.
As for me, I'd never really thought of myself as a mother before now. I didn't have the best of role models growing up. In fact, my family life was a federal disaster. My father abandoned us for his work and his mistresses. And my mother - she spent most of my childhood in a drunken stupor. I had only my sister, Lucy, to turn to for the emotional support that I needed. So I never thought that any part of me would ever feel like I would want children of my own. How could I have a maternal instinct when I'd never felt like my own mother possessed it?
In any case, I always had my work to keep me busy. The only babies I ever felt the need to birth were the hard hitting articles that I wrote. At first, I birthed those stories on my own. And then Clark joined me. More often than not, those babies were not just mine, but ours. And it felt so good, so right, to create something with him.
Until recently, any thoughts of having actual babies never really crossed my mind. I was still too focused on my career. I was still too focused on finally winning a Pulitzer. A husband and babies and a family could all come later. I had all the time in the world. I was Lois Lane - I could accomplish anything I wanted.
So, when did my views and my desires change? When did a husband and babies and a family become so important to me? I can tell you that. It changed the moment when I realized that I loved Clark. Suddenly, Clark and our life together was the most important thing in the world. And I realized something - something wonderful. Clark would be the father of my children. Suddenly, the idea of becoming a mother was no longer scary but eagerly anticipated.
It isn't fair.
Clark and I have endured so much together. We've faced just about every conceivable disaster there is, and quite a few that were inconceivable until they actually happened. Every step of our relationship was a constant struggle against fate. Every step forward was met by the world's resistance. We fought tooth and nail for every inch of progress we made in being together. Just getting finally say "I do" was a Herculean task.
Why couldn't fate be kind to us in this one thing? Why couldn't this one aspect of our lives be easy?
My heart is screaming within my chest. My whole body wants to scream. But I hold it in. I want to be strong. I want to be Clark's rock. He needs me right now. So I need to at least pretend that I am optimistic about the future.
Clark is hurting so much right now. I know he is. He tries to act like it doesn't bother him, but he can't fool me. I know him too well. And I know that staring into the face of a childless future is killing him inside.
I am angry, so very angry. I'm angry at fate for making Clark's DNA and mine so vastly different from each other. I am angry that Dr. Klein can't find some way to give us even a sliver of hope that we might one day be able to conceive. I am angry that my father couldn't find a flaw with Dr. Klein's findings. And I am furious with the adoption agency.
I never expected the process to be easy, if adoption was the route that we'd take. Mentally, I had already begun to prepare myself for the grueling process - the paperwork, the questions, the home visits, the waiting. But to be denied to even be considered - it makes my blood boil. It's not that I don't see the social worker's point - I admit that I don't have a very good track record with danger. But I would have been willing to sacrifice most of "Mad Dog Lane" if and when a child entered the picture.
It isn't fair.
Why does it seem like everyone else gets what they want in life? Why can so many unplanned babies result from moments of forgotten precaution or from drunken, barely remembered sex? Why can so many people who are just horrible to children be able to have them? Why does it seem that the less able to care for a child a person is, the more that they have? I've covered my fair share of stories - the homeless, abandoned children in the city, the drugged out parents who drowned their infant when he wouldn't stop crying, the neglected children living in houses of squalor. Each time, my heart broke for the children who were victims. And now, as I think of those stories, a new sense of pain lances my heart.
How can parents ever take a child for granted? How can a parent ever not care for their own flesh and blood? How can a parent ever willfully inflict harm on a child?
It isn't fair.
Clark and I would treasure and love a child more than anything on this Earth.
Beside me, Clark has finally slipped into a deeper, more peaceful sleep. I lean back against my pillows and fresh tears slip from my eyes. I don't bother to wipe them away. More will come, of that I am sure.
I press my trembling hands over my empty womb. It aches for a child within it. There is a profound sense of loss in my soul. And for once, I cannot find the right word with which to describe it. Maybe there is no such word for the emptiness and the despair that I feel.
I want so badly to be a mother.
I want so badly for Clark to be a father.
My arms ache for a child to hold. My heart aches for a child to love.
Every dream I've had about bedtime stories, Little League practices, dance recitals, family movie nights - all are shattered into millions of indistinguishable shards. I'd always pictured Clark in my mind's eye, with our son on his shoulders at a street carnival or with our daughter on his knee as he taught her how to read. I'd already pictured the little boy who looked exactly like his daddy, but with my determined spirit. I'd already pictured the little girl who had Clark's optimism and crooked grin and my eyes and penchant for mischief. I'd already pictured Clark playing the part of Santa to our wide-eyed children on Christmas Eves to come. I'd already pictured a thousand ways to surprise Clark when I'd finally get a positive on a pregnancy test.
But none of that is to be in our future. And the knowledge is crushing.
And yet, there is nothing in the world that could ever make me give up a second of my life with Clark.
I know that we will survive this. We've survived so much together. Even in our darkest hours, our love endured and helped us to overcome everything and anything that stood in our way.
Together.
That's how we will survive this. I will lend him my strength as he has always lent my his. We will hold each other close. We will lean on each other in our moments of despair and grief, just as we always have. And maybe, just maybe, our love will prevail once more.
Fate was kind to us once. It made our lives cross paths - made us partners at work and best friends. Maybe, just maybe, fate will finally smile on us once more - be it a child who is born of our love, or who we adopt, or who falls from the sky in answer to our prayers.
Until then, my husband remains the last child of the House of El.
And regardless of if we have children or not in the future, I am glad. I am glad because of all the people on Earth, Clark is the one I get to share my life with.
