Dr. Sen quietly slid a box of tissues between them. “The beta is 240. That’s strong. We’ll repeat it in 48 hours, but for now… congratulations.”
Dr. Sen turned the report around.
Rohan, who had been bracing himself for bad news, stared at the paper. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Then he dropped his head into his hands and wept. iui centre in dum dum
Now, two weeks later, they were back for the beta HCG blood test.
But it wasn’t statistics. It was the ache in her arms that longed to hold a child. It was the way her mother-in-law had stopped asking, “Any news?” and started just looking at her with pity. That’s strong
Today was Day 14. The IUI procedure itself had been clinical but gentle—a thin catheter, a concentrated sample of Rohan’s best swimmers, a moment of silent prayer as Dr. Sen whispered, “There. Now we wait.”
The waiting room was full of other stories. A woman in a green saree was knitting a tiny yellow bootie, not out of celebration, but out of trying to manifest joy. A young couple sat apart, not speaking, the husband scrolling endlessly on his phone while the wife stared at a poster about ovulation cycles. Rohan, who had been bracing himself for bad
The sound that came out of her was not a cry or a laugh. It was a release—a long, shaky exhale that carried eighteen months of injections, temperature charts, and silent tears in the bathroom.