Authors Note: This story contains the subject of IVF (in vitro fertilization) and a miscarriage. Please consider this before reading a story of hope, love, and overcoming hardships...

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November 30th, 6:18 p.m.
Thanksgiving in the rearview, and we are heading into the holiday season a lot differently. This year we’d had one failed IVF (in vitro fertilization) round and a second that took, but we had complications in the tenth week and lost baby Jennifer. Cost, timing, fear, guilt, blaming ourselves, and heartache all weighed heavily on us. The toll of wanting a child and getting a glimpse of that possibility dashed, challenged our marriage and we struggled to figure out how to deal with everything as Christmas approached.

There was never a fear one or the other of us was looking for an exit, but things between us were certainly strained as we navigated the last couple months' post-Jennifer. At first, I tried to be that cheerleader, that rock Brandy always tended to be in our relationship, but it was difficult getting her motivated or to participate. She wouldn’t let me take on her grief to allow her time to just ‘breathe’. I would give anything to bear all of her pain and sorrow.

My idea to keep us in sync with our normal routines, like pulling out the Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving, was met with resistance, and I had to step back, allow Brandy space and time, and understand she was battling our loss differently than I was and from a much different place. We were both strong, independent women, but my journey to womanhood was very different, and my path meant I lacked the ability to bear children. I was no less a woman, having those desires to be a mother one day since childhood – not understanding until much later that would not be possible in the traditional sense. I did as much as I could to make that a reality, yet only played a small role in the process with our pregnancy.

I had been warned early on in my transition that I should give some serious thought to children in the future, but at the time, eight years ago, I barely had my shit together and there was no way I wanted to dump my life’s issues on an innocent child of mine in the future. My thoughts on that have changed, but at the time I was singularly focused on being 'complete'; ignoring that it could bite me in the ass later in life. I remember one of my final consults before GCS and they had said I could suspend HRT for six months to ‘possibly’ allow for getting and preserving some of my 'sailors', but I nixed that idea pretty quickly.

Paying for GCS was difficult enough, and the cost to keep my potential future offspring in a cryopreservation facility was insanely expensive. Since I hadn’t been concerned with that option, we had to rely on a donor, and that was guilt, shame I had to bear, as I could not provide the other half of the equation for our child. Not ideal in my mind, but it was the only way Brandy could be a mom and we would be able to have kids. Good jobs, decent medical insurance through both our respective employers and we figured out a way to pay for the opportunities, the chance to have a family.

Now I wasn’t sure Brandy would ever consider trying again. The pain was still too raw, and we both were carrying our own suffocating guilt.

I met Brandy a year after GCS at a technical symposium put on by my company demoing advanced aircraft structural tolerance certification equipment. According to her, she’d seen me from across the room and liked the dress I was wearing. She was fully decked out in her Air Force fatigues, a Tech Sergeant at the time. I remember her approaching me, waiting for me to finish talking to some Navy Vice Admiral who commanded the Pacific Fleet’s air wing, and straight up asking if I wanted to get a drink with her that evening in the hotel bar.

No pause, no consideration as to whether I might not be a lesbian or lean that way; she just knew what she wanted and went for it. I was able to find my tongue after a few failed babbles about needing to stay late and prep for tomorrow’s presentations, but I eventually accepted the offer.

We met in the hotel bar, and before we ordered our first drinks, I told her I was a Trans woman, nervously. While she looked a little surprised, she didn’t hesitate to ask if that was going to be a problem for me because it wasn’t for her.

“Well, no… I mean,” I began to say and stopped speaking when she got up from her bar stool, came around to my side of the table, and kissed me. In a fairly crowded hotel bar! I could have been knocked over by the proverbial feather at that moment.

Dumbfounded, I stared at her as she returned to her bar stool, and after sitting she said, “Good to hear, because I like your energy and your vibe.”

That night we talked for a couple hours, each having a couple drinks and sharing an appetizer. When the bar seemed to be getting more crowed and noisy she asked, “You want to get out of here?”

I remember only being able to nod; I was so nervous and still reeling a little from the kiss. We ended up in her room that night and the next night as well. I had never had a sexual partner that made me feel as though my body was floating or I was having some kind of out-of-body experience, but she’d done that to me and so much more. Brandy was the first woman I’d ever been with and she certainly opened my mind to the pleasures of sex that were possible as a woman.

That conference sparked a two-year, long-distance, relationship. She was stationed at the time at a Travis Air Force base outside of Fairfield, CA, and I worked / lived in Chula Vista, CA. She asked me to marry her on a trip we’d taken to Maui, HI, and after she had served her six-year enlistment, she got out, moved in with me, and we were married three months later.

She was my everything going on for four years this coming February, and I resigned myself to try something I hadn’t considered to maybe spark some hope for a future family with her.

"Yeah,” the disinterested voice on the line answered their phone with.

“Hey,” I began nervously. “You have a minute?”

“Something new you want to lay on me?”

Kevin, my older brother by a year, had not taken my decision to transition very well, and his crazy ‘Christ first’ wife had given me both barrels when she found out. To say our relationship was strained would be an understatement, but I needed his support now and knew this was going to be a difficult and likely pointless ask.

“You heard we lost Jennifer; Michael said he’d told you,” I began saying.

“Mmmuh, we prayed for the child."

“Thank you; we appreciate that. I’m, well, I… I was wondering if we could put aside your and Sherry’s dislike for my life choices for a minute so maybe we could focus on Brandy’s needs.”

“Look, what you’re calling ‘dislike’ falls short of everything we believe, Calvin, including your marriage to that woman,” he replied.

Calvin was my ‘dead name’ and my brother knew full well I was Megan now and had been for over ten years, so he was sticking it to me by being an ass about not using my name correctly.

“It’s Megan, and I didn’t call to argue or fight with you, Kevin,” I complained.

“Okay, so what is it you want? I need to go pick up Cece from gymnastics and don’t have a lot of time to ‘argue’ either.”

Good grief, he was being a fucking asshole! I needed to get something and hoped my niece Cece might give me some leeway.

“How’s Cece? She got the tumbling mat we sent for her birthday?”

Her birthday was last month, and we hadn’t heard a peep from them as to whether she got our gift.

“Yes, thanks. Look, what do you want?”

“Gotcha, all business, okay... Brandy is still not doing so well after we lost Jennifer. There is a lot of guilt, and some of that I carry pretty heavily because with IVF we had to use a donor. I would like our child to have some DNA linked to me, and…" I didn’t get to finish my sentence.

“Yeah, that’s not happening, Calvin. If you’re asking if I would be your donor, the answer is No! And as far as DNA is concerned, do you see the irony in that? You think you’re a woman now, and your DNA is all..."

He didn’t get to finish his sentence this time, “Megan, my name is Megan, and if you won’t or can’t accept that, then there isn’t anything more to say. You can believe what you want in your binary system belief of gender, but you’re wrong, and that book you two cling to so tightly is nothing more than fiction written long ago by men who had no idea there was a whole world beyond their tiny homelands.”

I didn’t give my brother a chance to reply and hung up on him.

December 8th, 2:54 p.m.
“Meg’s!”

I was already smiling before I answered my phone, seeing it was Michael, and I was smiling even more having gotten that greeting. He always called me Meg’s, rarely Megan, since I transitioned. I think he even said he’d never called me by my full dead name and wasn’t about to start now with my chosen name. It was all in fun; he’d slipped a few times over the years and had called me Megan, I loved that about him.

"Well, if it isn’t my favorite younger brother,” I replied.

“Huh? I’m your only younger brother! Unless you’re telling me dad had some love child we didn’t know about,” he said chuckling.

“Yeah, not saying that,” I giggled. “To what do I owe this call? Wait, let me guess, Kevin called you."

There was more laughter on the other end of the line: “Partly that, but partly because I hadn’t checked in on you in a couple weeks. Alisa called Brandy yesterday to see how she was doing, and I figured I owed you a call. How are you doing?”

“She said Alisa called. Thank her for that for me, will you? It means a lot to her and to me too.”

“I’ll do that... So?”

“Day by day... Some are easier than others, but you see some little girl in a store or in a commercial, and it makes you pause for a second. Sucks,” and I stop speaking because it did suck and it sucked talking about it. I needed to change the subject, “How are the kids?”

“Growing! Jackson fights with Anna way more than any of us did at their age.”

Jackson had just turned seven, and Anna was about to turn six. Michael and Alisa were pregnant three months after getting married, and were old hats at parenthood. They were the only family from my side who came to our wedding. No, Jesus, gender, Transgender, lesbian, or whatever issues with either of them, thankfully! It was refreshing, and I wished we lived closer and could see them more often.

“Kevin was the problem child, as I recall, but you made a pretty good run at dethroning him when you hit your teens,” I countered.

"God, I hope to hell my kids aren’t anything like me when they’re older. Are you two still coming out this summer? Anna keeps asking about her ‘aunties’ coming out. I swear she thought you two were her fairy godmothers after you girls went to have pedicures.”

“That really was a lot of fun; you should have come with us.”

“Yeah, not my thing... Great pictures of you four in chairs with ladies at your feet, though.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

"I think I do, actually. So, you hit Kevin up for his semen, eh? You are a brave, brave woman. That must have been awkward as fuck,” he said with a little laugh.

“Not one of my more thought-out ideas, but yeah, I asked, and we chewed on each other about the usual topics, and I hung up on him,” I explained.

"I got that from him; I think he was surprised by the ask though. Can I ask why? I mean, does Brandy want to try again?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. I just feel like the variable of a donor may have, ah..." I wasn’t sure how to explain, so I just stopped speaking.

"It could have been your sperm, and there still could have been complications. You can't think that way, Meg's; it’ll only get you more ugly to contend with. So, if she’s interested in trying again and you’re looking for a family donor, why didn’t you ask me?”

“You got snipped last year, or was it the year before? I figured Kevin might be an easier source for what I was… It was a really stupid idea anyway," I finished sounding frustrated.

“You ever hear of TESE?” he asked.

“No, what’s that?”

“TESE stands for Testicular Sperm Extraction, a less expensive and painful option to having a vasectomy reversed. Not like I’d be excited by the idea of some doctor jamming a needle into my boys, fishing around for 'sailors', but for you and Brandy, I’d be honored to help out, sis."

I was stunned and choked up, and the tears welling in my eyes made it impossible to reply.

After a few moments of silence, Michael asked softly, "I’m serious, Meg’s.”

“You’d do that for me,” and I broke down crying.

“Hey, hey… Of course I would, but only for my favorite sister. Hell, it was Alisa’s idea, and after I’d told her about Kevin treating you like shit, she did some research and found this to be a viable option with IVF. We’re here for you, you know that."

That last bit of love delivered only brought on more sobbing, and when I had calmed down enough, I thanked him and said I’d call Alisa to thank her when I thought I could speak without being an emotional wreck. We talked more about the specifics, and I said we’d pay for the procedure and subsequent storage costs until we were ready for another IVF try. Michael, being Michael, said he’d only do it if we accepted this as a gift. I’m sure he was kidding, but I cried some more and told him I loved him, Alisa, Jackson, and my favorite niece Anna.

"I love you too, Meg’s. I’ll let you know when we’ve got a couple gallons worth of 'sailors' for you,” he said with a hardy laugh.

It was tough to not laugh through all the tears. I was buoyed by the hope, and of course, the love shown us by my younger, more accepting brother.

December 25th, 10:10 a.m.
Brandy, last week, finally got a spark of the holiday spirit. I’d come home from work to find her stringing lights on the garage, had made a pretty good effort at decorating inside the house, including the tree, which I’d setup and put lights on, but had left alone until she was ready to participate in getting our favorite ornaments on it. When I’d seen all she’d done, it sparked the want to talk that night, and we did that late into the evening.

While we ended our ‘talk’ feeling better, it didn’t include any definite plans going forward, and she barely acknowledged the idea of trying IVF again. I hadn’t mentioned Michael being a donor. It was a much-needed therapeutic cleansing given how we’d both been feeling the past couple months, but we left things in limbo last week.

Our bellies full this morning from the usual Christmas breakfast fare, both of us caffeinated and in our PJ’s, and the couple's gifts that were under the tree now open, I gave Brandy a little hug and kiss.

“Okay, I know that look... We agreed on gifts and spending limits. What do you have up your sleeve?" she asked me, her perfect brows furled a little with suspicion, a smile on her face.

I nervously pulled a card from behind the throw pillow behind me and handed it to her. “No pressure, but I want you to know what’s in my heart and what I hope we can… Well, just read it."

It was her turn to look nervous, and I watched her open the card and begin reading.

Brandy,

You’re my life, my love, and I remember every single day what you said to me in Maui when you asked me to marry you. You said, “I don’t want to settle down; I want our love to be a collection of, ‘Can you believe we did that?’ moments."

These almost four years together have been exactly that—amazing moments that make me love you more every day. I didn’t think I could love you any more than I did until you were pregnant…

I knew she hadn’t gotten very far into what I’d written when she put the card in her lap, looked at me as if her world had shattered before saying, “I can't, Megan... I can’t do that again; I can’t live through losing…”

What followed were us hugging each other and crying together.

December 25th, 9:47 p.m.
The rest of Christmas day had been a mix of tension, sadness I had to try and hide my regret through. I’d pressed the idea we should try again, when I should have let the idea organically surface from Brandy. She’d eventually finished reading the rest of the card in its entirety.

Brandy,

You’re my life, my love, and I remember every single day what you said to me in Maui before you asked me to marry you. You said, “I don’t want to ever settle down; I want our love to be a collection of, ‘Can you believe we did that?’ moments."

These almost four years together have been exactly that—amazing moments that make me love you more every day. I didn’t think I could love you any more than I did until you were pregnant and loved Jennifer with all your heart, being.

I had told you my regrets for not being a contributor to our wanting to be parents. But I’ve figured out a way to be more connected to our future child if you would consider trying again. I asked Michael to be the donor for a future IVF try. Alisa figured out how to make that happen, and they both wanted to help us make that possible.

This could be our next ‘Can you believe we did that?’ moment. You are my life, and my heart is all yours. I would love nothing more than for you to have our child and be a mom.

I love you...

Megan

After reading the card in full she retreated to our room, wanting some time alone. It was hard for me to give her that space, but I did. Thankfully needing to prepare Christmas dinner kept my mind busy. I’d gotten a call from Michael, and he asked how it had gone, and I told him not so well. Alisa, in the background, with both kids howling and laughing about something, had said to give it time.

Brandy came down about an hour before dinner to help finish up. She apologized and told me she loved me, Michael, and Alisa but couldn’t promise anything. I’m sure I heard her talking with her mom when I went up to check on her a couple times but didn’t intrude.

Dinner was good, but not all that joyful. When we finished and had cleaned up, we watched “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and I ended up dozing off near the end, though I got to hear Clarence got his wings. We retired to bed shortly after the movie, and Brandy apologized again. I assure her she had nothing to apologize for.

Before falling asleep, I wondered if my blunder to push the idea of trying again would be one of those, ‘Can you believe Megan wanted me to do that?!’ moments.

December 31st, 8:12 p.m.
The week leading up to New Year’s had been more of the same between us—a little tense, a lot of focus by each of us to be overly aware of the others feelings, and there was absolutely no mention of trying IVF again.

My company was having a New Year’s party we’d RSVP’d to, but I’d tried to convince Brandy I’d be just as happy watching the clock tick into the New Year at home on our couch. It wasn’t to be... And since we were going, I got us a room so we wouldn’t have to risk driving home under the influence or experience that from another driver on the road.

Over the drone of a Bruno Mars song the DJ was playing, Brandy shouted in my ear, “I needed this, tonight…”

Her saying that surprised me and the quick kiss after warmed my heart. We danced the song out and headed back to our table, but as we approached our table, one of my managers and his wife were getting up, and I asked what was up.

His wife, Bridgett, answered, “Our daughter just threw up all over the couch, and our son almost made it to the bathroom before hurling his pizza. The babysitter is freaking out a little and is worried she might be getting sick since they’d all eaten the pizza we had delivered.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Brandy said sympathetically.

“Yeah, me too,” she said. “Was hoping to get a little more time away; it's been a while since we’ve gotten out like this. It's always something with kids, but most of it has been a pretty good experience. Well, maybe not the chicken pox, and me catching it too. Who knew I hadn’t had it as a kid.”

It would be a lie to say I was prepared for the cringe question that was likely to come next, that being, ‘Do you have kids?' Thankfully, it didn't, and they left after a few "Goodbyes" delivered around the table.

December 31st, 11:59 p.m. and fifty-eight, fifty-nine seconds...
“Happy New Year’s!”

Brandy and I were already hugging and kissing as confetti, and the crowd whooped, howled, and blew into whistles or kazoos for easily a couple minutes into the New Year.

“I love you, Meg’s,” Brandy said into my ear, kissing my cheek afterwards.

“I love you too,” I said in return, and kissed her again softly, with plenty of alcohol-lubricated want coursing through my veins.

I heard someone yell, “Get a room already!” and we separated embarrassed, looking around to find who’d made that comment. My cube mate Brendon had and I flipped him off, before Brandy surprised me by dipping me to kiss me again in front of the small group of my coworkers.

After I’d been righted, she said, “Let’s go get some air."

We did a little wave to my coworkers, who’d clapped at her skill for perfectly dipping me, and exited the ballroom.

January 1st, 12:26 a.m.
We strolled the hotel grounds for a few minutes hand in hand, watching other revealers along the way, and were treated to random fireworks being set off from the marina. It wasn’t the warmest of nights, so our stroll outside didn’t last very long. Neither of our shoulder wraps offered much warmth, and our gowns materials were fairly light to begin with.

“You have a New Year’s resolution?” Brandy asked.

“To be there for you always,” I said, hugging her around the waist. “How about you?”

“The same, but I expect that would be yours, so I knew I’d need to come up with something else,” she said slyly.

"Does that mean we’re not going back to the party?" I asked with a little more exuberance than may have been called for. I was lusting for my wife, and I had but a single train of thought when I’d asked that.

“Think I’d like to be alone with my wife too," she said softly into my ear, kissing my neck and making me feel a little woozy.

She didn’t have to ask twice, and to make her request happen a little quicker, I placed a hand on her shoulder and took off my three-inch heels. I had been looking up at her all night by an inch, maybe two, and marveled at how I loved looking up into those light brown eyes of hers. Alcohol? Nah, she was beautiful, and that gown had me lusting for what was beneath it something hard since she’d put it on!

January 1st, 12:34 a.m.
No sooner had the door to our room closed, I was being encouraged to sit on the bed. A gentle kiss that promised much more was given, and then I sensed something different in my wife, my lover. There was a confidence, a swagger, that badass woman who’d swept me off my feet and liked to take charge was back and standing before me.

It had been quite some time since we’d let loose, like really let loose, and I was going to take full advantage of this opportunity. I watched her unzip her dress, step out of it, still in her four-inch heels, lay the dress over a chair, and stand before me in just her bra and panties. I know my mouth dropped, and when she’d wagged a finger at me to stand, I hopped up eagerly and at that point it was ‘game on’!

January 1st, 1:57 a.m.
The water cascading over our bodies, the steam of the shower, and her hands sensually caressing me were the perfect ending to a perfect session of love-making. There was no holding back tonight, and we’d both been rather vocal as one or the other of us was driving the other wild. We easily worked off months of sexual frustrations tonight.

Brandy’s hands now on my small, yet perky breasts felt amazing, and her lips on my earlobe were beginning to drive me crazy again!

“I’d like to try again,” she whispered softly in my ear.

I shuttered and reached around, got my hands on her ass, and pulled her in close. “I’m happy to do it all over again."

There was a moment I thought she hadn’t heard me, but she said, “No, not that... Our New Year’s resolution should be ‘we’ should try again."

Huh? Didn’t we just… And as the realization of what she was actually saying hit home, I spun to face her, tears already streaming down both our faces, and I hugged her tightly while unabashedly bawling my eyes out.

Epilogue:
Trying again was a gamble we were willing to take. Those first three months of the New Year involved plenty of doctor visits as they optimized Brandy’s fertility drugs, egg retrieval, embryo development with Michael’s sperm, and by mid-March everything fell into place for having the embryos placed in Brandy’s uterus. Our doctor’s confidence was high, which reassured us, but we were nervous through the wait and almost exactly two weeks to the day after insertion, we found out we were pregnant!

The news, while amazing and what we had hoped for, also brought on fear, stress, and worry. As the weeks slowly ticked by, Brandy did everything she was directed, and other than a minor spotting problem at week nine, we’d made it past the point where we’d lost Jennifer. At week twenty-two, Brandy felt our baby move for the first time. She hadn’t experienced that with Jennifer, even though we’d seen evidence of her moving through ultrasounds two weeks before she passed.

Because we’d lost Jennifer, Brandy’s doctor was treating her pregnancy as ‘high risk', which was worrisome at first, but the attention given to her care did so much to calm our nerves throughout this journey. During a later ultrasound, we were asked if we wanted our doctor’s opinion on the sex of our growing child within her.

“Your call; you’re doing all the work,” I said, remembering we hadn’t known we were having a daughter last time until she’d passed.

Brandy took my hand, “You sure?”

I nodded, and she nodded to the doctor. There may have been a bit of crying going on after finding out. Of course, knowing we would now have time to decide on a name we liked was comforting.

On December 8th, at approximately 1:10 p.m., our six-pound, four-ounce daughter Michelle Alise was born. We named her in honor of my brother Michael and his wife Alisa, for the gift they’d provided us.

Both Brandy and Michelle were healthy and so freaking beautiful. The pregnancy experience had been everything Brandy had hoped for and I loved that she shared every thought and experience with me. Our experience proved love, resilience, and the determination of two strong and fiercely in love women could prevail.

It had been her New Year’s resolution, given to me after arguably the most amazing night of giving of ourselves to one another, I will never forget. Our experience had absolutely lived up to our promise to have those moments we’d look back on where we’d think, “Can you believe we did that?”

FIN

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