Hurts So Good (Neil Melendez (The Good Doctor) x OC)

Father n.849

"While I get everything ready you should start undressing. Lay on the operating table and put the towel on your legs."

I do as she says: taking off my trousers and my panties, I fold them carefully more in order to relax my nerves than for the sake of the fabric itself. Then I take the towel, drape it around my waist and lay on the fake leather-like table. My head is spinning, my heart is beating fast, so fast I feel like it just wants to get out of my chest. I realize I'm scared, so scared that something might go wrong... that something could go right. 

This is the thing about me: I can't for the life of me ever afford to be happy. I'm scared of being happy, scared of letting go, of letting people and feelings in. I'm scared of what one would probably call "living life". It sucks, it truly does, but I wanna get better, I wanna be better for myself but also because I promised mum. She wanted two things from me: "be happy and have the baby you want, you can do it on your own, I know you will be fine" and I will keep those two promises no matter what, even if she will never be able to appreciate the results in person. It will be hard, but I'm willing to learn and make some more mistakes.

Step one is coming through the door. 

I gave the baby-talk to my mum just a few weeks before her diagnosis, that was seven months ago. She was so happy I had decided to take this immense "leap of faith", as she would call it. The desire had always been there I told her, but I lacked in self confidence. I don't know what gave me the courage to open up to her in the first place, I don't even know how I manage to come up with the idea of having an IUI done to be fully honest. But now that I'm here I'm losing it. My condition must be extremely physical, because as soon as Dr. Young comes back she asks, "is everything alright? You're very pale, dear. Let me get you some water," she comes back with a glass full of cold water and I gulp it down. It freezes my brain and lucidity comes back. 

"I'm feeling way better now. Thank you, Doctor. It's... just my nerves. I've... - all of this is frightening, but I'm also very excited, and scared, and," I pause for a second because I know where my brain is going and it terrifies me. I swore to myself that I'd never even think of it, but right now, right here, the thought is bright as light.

"Doctor what if I'm a bad parent? My parental history speaks volume for itself. What if I won't love this child, what if,"

"Miller," she says firmly, "stop the "what ifs", I'm not a magician, nor a fortune teller or whatever. What I know is that you came to my office all those months ago because you wanted to have a baby, and you looked radiant that day. What I also know is that no matter what went down within your family, you had a fantastic mother who loved you, and yes. I gathered all that from that little note you just gave me," she smiles and chuckles a little, "I'm not saying it will be flawless and easy, on the contrary, it will be challenging and difficult, but if there's something I'm very good at is reading my patients and I can tell that you will face everything with the grace of a queen and the strength of a soldier. You just have to believe in yourself." 

By the end of her speech my face is being flooded by an ocean of tears and black mascara. I'm sobbing quietly and when I say, "I'm ready. Do it," I mean it. 

Mom, I really hope you're watching and I really hope you will help me somehow.