TRANSCRIPT

I’m Maggie Smith, and this is The Slowdown.

Affordability is something I’ve been reading and thinking a lot about lately, probably because it comes up in political ad after political ad. And no wonder! Many people are struggling to keep their heads above water in this economy. Gas prices are way up in America, coast to coast. My grocery bills are bigger and bigger, though I’m not buying more than I used to. My electric bill is almost double what it was a few years ago, and I’m not doing anything differently.

And don’t even get me started on healthcare! Our family’s insurance premiums cost more per month than my mortgage, and our coverage is, let’s just say, scant. There are still so many out-of-pocket costs.

Something I think about more and more as I age, and as I watch my parents age, is how in this country, our finances determine the level of care we receive. And in the case of fertility treatment, which is astronomically expensive, our finances may determine if we can have biological children.

The speaker of today’s poem understands these complex issues, as she navigates infertility and a parent’s illness. This poem reminds me of why traditional wedding vows include the language “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health.”

No Guarantees
by Kelly Grace Thomas

We speak in dark futures.
This fight follows us:
                  on hikes,
                                     through dinner
                                                       parties and dishes.
Threats rigged
                              ready in
                                        our throats.

And if IVF doesn’t work?  Omid asks.
Once it’s gone, it’s gone.  (The money

we spent seven years saving
for a down payment.)

Answerless,                I interrogate vanity.          Want.
My hungry                                                       never fed.

Our marriage                               flickers,                   a bulb
burning                                                out.

                   *                 *                 *                 *                 *

The doctor reminds us,
                    There are no guarantees.

Mom’s cancer keeps
spreading.               The treatment                       erasing her

fingerprints.                                On her third                           kind
of chemo                   the red witch       runs
                    through her                               blood.

Steals her                  personality                    for almost
two weeks                                   after. She moans in bed.

I ask the doctor, Should we change          treatments?
Is the pain                                worth the price?

                             *                 *                 *                 *                 *

At our wedding, guests wrote notes 
predicting our future.

On our first anniversary, we drank grapes and slow-
danced in front of fire.

We unfolded handwritten prophecies:
Babies, pregnancy, pitter-
patter.  This was five months after
the doctor said: Not possible.

My life a small window, the hurt                  looking through.
You can invite tender in. Kneel at the feet
of want. Nothing promises to stay.

                             *                 *                 *                 *                 *

I’m terrified
of the hormones,
the needles,
that I would fail
any expensive
egg that enters
this white-knuckled
body.

“No Guarantees” by Kelly Grace Thomas from FUTURE TENSE © 2026 Kelly Grace Thomas. Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Alice James Books.