Baby Trap

by Hodge, Sibel

  Instead, I woke up at five a.m. and crept into the bathroom.

  I peed on the test stick.

  I waited the two agonizing minutes.

  I looked at the digital readout.

  Not Pregnant.

  I couldn’t cry straight away. I was in shock.

  It had failed. I had failed. I had failed him.

  I didn’t want to believe it, but as I stared at the readout, I had to believe it. It was there, shouting at me. Screaming at me in the silence. But then a thought wormed its way into my brain. Were the digital tests not as sensitive as the ones with lines? I was sure I’d read that somewhere during my many hours on the Internet. Maybe I should try the other ones.

  I’d found Karl’s secret stash of pregnancy tests the day before so I pulled all twelve out and tried again.

  Test one: Negative.

  Test two: Negative.

  Test three: Negative.

  Test four: Negative.

  I knew I should’ve given up then but I used all twelve. They were all the same.

  I went into the bedroom to wake up Karl. I didn’t want to cry alone, and he was the only other person in the world who wanted it more than me.

  ‘I’m not pregnant,’ my voice came out husky in the darkness, like it belonged to someone else.

  The look on his face broke my heart into a thousand pieces. ‘Are you sure? It’s only day thirteen. Maybe it’s too early.’

  I shook my head. ‘The tests can read the results two days before you’re due. Dr Swanson said I could test from day eleven. There is no baby. Our beautiful, miracle embryos died.’

  And as he reached out to me and pulled me into his arms on the bed I let out a strangled yell of hurt and anger so loud it sounded like a wounded animal.

  Then I cried. I cried like I’d never done before. I cried so hard I was silent. I pressed my hands hard against my eyes, trying to push the tears back inside me. Trying to push the hurt back inside. And as he buried his face into my neck, I felt his own hot tears on my skin.

  We both knew it was over.

  Goodbye

  My period arrived with a vengeance the next day, dashing any small hope I had that all the tests were wrong. I felt angry. Why give us a glimmer of hope only to snatch it away again? I wanted to blame someone. The doctors, the nurses, Karl, Zelda, myself, anyone. Was it something I’d done? Was it because I preferred lie-ins instead of exercise in my twenties? Was it because I ate too much junk food when I was younger? Drank too much alcohol? Had too many late nights? Was it something in my genes? Would I have got pregnant if I’d started trying earlier? Or had the doctors messed up the embryo transfer somehow?

  But I knew no one was to blame. It just happened.

  I felt gut-wrenching sadness that was like physical pain. I was left with joylessness and hopelessness. I hated myself and I hated the world. My heart was broken. How was I going to face tomorrow? Or the next day? Or the day after that? Our final chance at conceiving had just vanished, along with my fantasy of being pregnant. Now what?

  I couldn’t talk to anyone, not even Karl. For the first two days, I lay on the sofa in the lounge with the TV on. I stared at it so I wouldn’t have to think. David Attenborough was having a Blue Planet Special weekend on National Geographic channel. For forty-eight hours, I lay in the same position watching whales and dolphins and sharks and seals. Somehow, his soft voice was really soothing and the animal noises seemed to comfort me. Occasionally, I’d doze off, only to be woken by horrible dreams of dying embryos that looked like plump grapes, then shrivelled into raisins before my eyes. I’d scream and Karl would come running downstairs to rock me until I fell asleep again.

  After the weekend, Karl went back to work. He said he needed to get his mind off it. I knew by his actions that he was devastated in a thousand ways, and he looked at me like he was worried to death about whether I would cope with this, but I couldn’t deal with how he felt. I could only deal with my feelings.

  Karl had cancelled my clients, and I ignored the phone that rang constantly and the knocks on the door. I wanted to stay in a cocoon for the rest of my life, not thinking or feeling anything.

  I wandered around the house aimlessly, feeling brittle, like I could shatter into shreds at any second. I stared at our embryo pictures for hours. I saw the fertility drugs in the bathroom and kitchen, thinking how much better life was before I found out. How could I ever go back to the way things were? I couldn’t.

  After all the tests, drugs, needles, scans, worry, eggs being sucked out, eggs being pushed in, and interminable waiting, I was left with nothing except disappointment and loss.

  This went on for two weeks. I lost weight, I had dark circles under my eyes; no one could reach me. Everything was a constant reminder: as I packed away all the IVF drugs; when I took down the post-it notes with pregnancy mantras; when I went to the shops to buy food in a daze and accidentally found myself in the baby aisle; when I turned on the TV and saw adverts for nappies. It was my birthday in four days but I didn’t feel like celebrating. I felt like I was imploding into a huge pit of grief. I wanted attention and comforting hugs from Karl, but at the same time, I wanted to be alone.

  Suzanne came round to visit me and stood on the doorstep, refusing to leave until I let her in. When I opened the door she didn’t need to say anything, she just hugged me. I couldn’t cry anymore. I didn’t have any tears left.

  ‘Karl phoned me,’ she said. ‘He’s worried about you.’

  ‘I know he is. I’m worried about me.’

  ‘That’s why I’m here. I want to help,’ she said as we went inside, her arm firmly around my shoulder.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it. It’s still too raw,’ I said.

  ‘OK, I’ll talk and you listen. If I can give you something positive to clutch onto, then I’ll feel like I’ve been useful.’ She held my shoulders and looked into my eyes with so much concentration it was as if she could read my soul. ‘Is that OK?’

  I nodded.

  ‘This grief you’re feeling is a part of the healing process, but you have to be careful it doesn’t consume you. It will get easier. Healing takes time, and often, growth and wisdom follow loss.’

  I snorted. I didn’t want to hear that.

  ‘It’s true. After everything you’ve put your body and mind through, it’s natural to feel like this. And just like you did the fertility treatment, now you have to treat yourself to get well.’ She paused, making sure she had my full attention. ‘It’s the death of a dream, but it’s not death. You and Karl will still go on. There’s plenty of living to be done.’

  I thought about that for a moment and knew she was right. I’d hit the bottom and now I had to find a way to stagger to my feet again. Life would go on, and I had to find a way to live again.

  ‘You said before you wouldn’t be able to go back to the old you, and that’s true,’ she said. ‘You’ve been on an incredible journey, and there’s no way you can be the same as you were before all this started. But now you have to look to the future. You need to celebrate what you already have. Instead of concentrating on all the things that have gone wrong, concentrate on what has gone right. Put up a picture of you and Karl and remind yourself every day what you’re grateful for. Before you get out of bed in the morning, tell yourself there are so many brand new possibilities for you today. You’re healthy, you have each other, your life can go anywhere from here. Don’t think about where you wanted things to go, think about where they will go from here.’

  I nodded glumly, taking in what she was saying.

  ‘Should you sacrifice living for something you’ve never had?’ she asked me, studying my face. ‘Destroy your own life so you can try and create another?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted. And I knew she was absolutely right. My guru always seemed to say exactly the right things.

  Karl and I had got through this together. He’d put up with me turning into a complete psycho for two years. How many men would do that? We’d surviv
ed it. We would survive it. I was grateful to have the man I loved more than anything in the world standing by my side. If we couldn’t have a family, we would still have each other. I was blessed with a man who loved me back. A man who was in it for the long haul. We’d been through the good times and survived the rough times. We could do it again. Karl was still there, standing tall for me. And in some ways I felt our relationship would be even stronger now after all that we’d gone through.

  I vowed there and then that I would never hope to get pregnant again. I know hope is a wonderful thing, but sometimes you have to let it go. I couldn’t spend the next unknown amount of years hoping month upon month that I’d get lucky. I was fed up with being a mean, depressed, emotional car crash. I desperately wanted and needed to have a child with Karl but it wouldn’t happen. It obviously wasn’t meant to happen. So that just meant there was something else for us. Would that something be Australia? I’d spent the last two years being upset, unhappy, angry, frustrated, bitchy, tearful, crazy, instead of the old normal me who had a great social life, enjoyed her job, kicked back and relaxed. I didn’t want to be the person I’d become anymore. It was taking over our lives. I knew I couldn’t go on like this, freewheeling out of control both mentally and physically. I couldn’t put myself through IVF again. I couldn’t do it to my body, my mind, or our marriage. Every brand new day there was a new choice, a new direction to take. That’s what I had to think about now. Instead of being in limbo agony, I had to choose to be free again.

  I poured my heart out to Suzanne, telling her about the plans I’d been thinking about if things didn’t work out.

  ‘Well, that certainly is drastic.’ Suzanne smiled at me for the first time that day. ‘I think it takes a very strong and brave person to give up on their hopes and dreams and start a new chapter.’

  ‘I need to do something drastic. That’s the whole point.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m now closer to forty than thirty and my life is running away from me. What have I got to show for it? You said that there are so many new possibilities out there…I think this is one of them.’

  ‘Change can be such a good thing if it gives you the strength to carry on and empowers you. I think you should discuss it with Karl. It’s a fantastic idea.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Although I’ll miss you. I think we’ve become good friends.’

  I threw my arms around her. ‘You’re my guru, Suzanne. You’ve kept me sane. I don’t know how I would’ve got through all this stuff without you.’

  She patted my back and laughed softly. ‘I told you, Gina, you’re the guru.’

  ****

  When she left I rushed down the shops to buy a red balloon. It had to be red to symbolize love. It was time to say an official goodbye to my embryos and my dream.

  I went out into the garden where it had all begun two years ago with the vision of a baby. Now I was going to put it to rest. I drew a heart on the balloon and wrote one word on it: Goodbye. Then I thought that was a bit short so I added more hearts and some kisses.

  I took a deep breath and looked up at the clouds, pressing the balloon close to my heart. I closed my eyes. Then I let the balloon float up into the sky, just like I’d done all those months ago with the imaginary balloon I’d sent to Zelda, feeling that I’d come full circle. All my hopes, my fears, my neurotic behaviour, my dreams of being a parent – now was the time to let it all go.

  I watched it until it became a speck in the distance. It wasn’t until it had completely disappeared from view that I turned and walked back into the house.

  I went upstairs, flicked through our wedding albums and chose a picture of Karl and me staring into each other’s eyes with an ecstatic grin. I put it in a silver photo frame by my bed and traced his face with my fingertip.

  Now it was time for a new life. I was getting out of the baby trap.

  One Day at a Time

  The next day, I woke up feeling lighter and freer than I had in months. The first thought I had wasn’t what day is it in my cycle, or which test or hormone drug should I be taking today. It was a brand new start, and I had a great feeling about it.

  I slid out of bed without waking Karl and padded downstairs to make breakfast – the first meal I’d made in ages. Instead of having an empty pit in my stomach, I felt ravenous. I could eat anything I wanted from now on. I could get pissed on red wine again. My life wouldn’t be ruled by calendars anymore. We could have fun doing things we enjoyed together, instead of getting stressed and fighting. I would be witty again and funny and make Karl laugh like I used to.

  Bacon and eggs. Yep, that’s what I wanted. Greasy bacon and eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, and toast. I wasn’t going to blow all my healthy eating habits, but I was going to treat us to a fab fry-up to celebrate new beginnings. No more anxiety or stress about trying to get pregnant. No more doctors or hospital visits. No more intolerable waiting. I was going to live in the moment.

  I rushed out of the house to the corner shop and came back with the makings of a sumptuous feast.

  When Karl stumbled downstairs, he studied me carefully, unsure what mood I’d be in. ‘Are you OK?’ He leaned on the doorway, with wary eyes, like maybe I’d completely tipped over the edge and cooking a fry-up was the first sign of a nervous breakdown.

  ‘I’m fine!’ I beamed back at him, brimming with confidence as I cracked a couple of eggs into the frying pan.

  He walked up behind me and put his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulders. ‘It’s good to have you back.’

  I turned to face him and looped my arms around his neck. ‘It’s good to be back.’ I nuzzled into him. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been a nightmare.’

  ‘You don’t have to apologize. It’s hard. We’re both grieving.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, determined not to cry.

  ‘We’ll get though it. One day at a time, it will get easier.’ His face radiated with love.

  Australia Here We Come

  For the next few days, I buried myself in work and the Internet, searching sites about Australia. Anything to stop me thinking. Even though I’d said goodbye to my hopes and dreams, I was still going through the grieving process, and I knew the only thing that would heal it was time. A cliché, I know, but I really believed it. How would I feel six months from now? A year? It would get easier with every day, but I wanted to push the unhappy thoughts to the back of my head and concentrate on something else. I knew it would take a long time to get to a place where I was comfortable with the realization I’d never be a mother, but I had to start living again.

  As I went through the websites, I realized I didn’t want to plan anything. I was sick of planning. I’d been planning everything in my life around my cycle, my temperature, my hormone treatments, and my egg white. Now was the time to be unpredictable, spontaneous. The way I saw it, all we really needed to do was rent out the house, get our visa and flight tickets, and go. I wanted an adventure, where I didn’t know what was going to happen the next day, or the next. I wanted excitement. I wanted to experience wonderful new possibilities every day.

  Every time Karl came in when I was on the Internet I’d close the tab and pretend I was looking at something else. I’d decided to wait until my birthday to bring up my plans with him since I figured how could he refuse me on my birthday? Hey, you can’t blame a girl for being sneaky!

  The night before I turned thirty-five, Amelia, Dan, Kerry, and Mark came round bearing bottles of wine and pressies.

  ‘Omigod!’ I squealed. ‘This is the first glass of wine I’ve had in soooo long. It’s so yum.’ I savoured my first mouthful, knowing I’d probably be tipsy before I’d finished it.

  ‘Well, it gets better,’ Kerry said, handing me the biggest box of chocolates I’d ever seen in my life.

  ‘Aw.’ I licked my lips, grinning. ‘I’m not sharing these with anyone.’

  Amelia cornered me in the kitchen later on while the others were laughing and joking in the lounge. ‘Are you OK? We’ve all been worried about you.’

&nb
sp; I always hated it when people asked you if you were OK. It was usually my cue to burst into tears. But I was sick of crying. ‘I will be. Eventually.’

  She gave me a hug, sensing I didn’t want to talk about anything.

  ‘I’m going to ask Karl about Australia tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Wish me luck.’

  Amelia’s eyes widened. ‘So you really want to do it?’

  ‘I feel like it’s something I have to do to get myself back. To get us back again. All this stuff really takes it out of you.’

  ‘If you go, what am I going to do without you?’ This time it was Amelia’s turn to cry instead of mine. Her eyes glistened in the kitchen light. ‘I’ll miss you so much. We all will.’

  ‘Oh, don’t cry. I’m going to miss you guys loads, too.’ I grabbed her hand. ‘I don’t know if it’s going to happen for real yet. It depends on what Karl thinks, but if we go, it probably won’t be forever. We’ll still see each other. Don’t worry, you can’t get rid of me that easily. You’ll get loads of emails from me, and phone calls.’

  She sniffed, smiling at me. ‘You’d better.’ She poked me in the ribs. ‘So, what’s Karl got planned for tomorrow, then?’

  ‘I don’t know. He said it was a big surprise.’

  ‘Oooh, interesting.’ She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Hmm. I’m not sure that surprises are good when you’re nearly forty, they might induce heart attacks, strokes, and possible sudden bowel movements.’

  She snorted. ‘You’re not nearly forty!’

  ‘Well, thirty-five is closer to forty than thirty.’

  ‘Maybe you’re having a midlife crisis,’ she giggled.

  ‘Maybe I am.’

  Birthday Surprise!

  Birthday. Birth Day. A day of life. It was the day I was brought into the world, and now I knew my child would never have a birthday. But instead of dwelling on morbid thoughts, I looked at the picture of Karl and me on our wedding day.