Lucy would have to wait until two weeks had passed before she could take a pregnancy test to find out whether the insemination had worked. Those two weeks were the longest of her life. She struggled to sleep because her mind was spinning with the enormity of the situation. She felt unbelievably excited at the prospect of what might be, whilst at the same time she couldn’t bear the thought that it might not have worked. Knowing the odds, she tried hard to keep her expectations in perspective. Luckily that weekend she had the wonderful distraction of Otto’s christening.
She arrived at the church dressed in a smart navy shift dress with discreet jewellery and a pair of kitten heels. In her arms she carried a huge box, carefully wrapped in paper that was printed with little sailing boats. She had bought Otto a bouncy seat that could be suspended from a door frame. As a child Lucy had loved to dance and swing from the beam above the kitchen door in her own bouncy chair, and she hoped her godson would love it too. The other godmother was Tor’s best friend from university, Kate. They had met whilst studying Spanish and had spent a year abroad in Seville together during their third year. Lucy had gone out to visit them, taking a break from her History of Art dissertation, and had had a wonderful time eating tapas and experiencing the local nightlife. Her dalliance with a sexy Latino man had almost resulted in her missing her flight back home! Ever since then, Lucy had been firm friends with Kate, and they squealed with delight as they saw each other, both so thrilled to be Otto’s godparents, promising to take him under their wing and spoil him rotten. The two godfathers were old friends of Will’s, and together the four of them solemnly promised to look after Otto and care for his spiritual development at the requisite points during the service.
Otto behaved like a little saint, not even making a squeak when the vicar doused his head with water from the baptismal font. He had an antique lace christening gown that had been passed down through the family for generations. It was a strange thought trying to imagine Will wearing the same tiny outfit thirty-six years ago!
They posed for photographs outside the church before heading over to Will and Tor’s house for tea and christening cake.
Tor discreetly caught Lucy in the kitchen. ‘So, how was the first cycle?’ she asked in muted tones so that no one could overhear. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘It was okay I suppose. It’s so hard to tell if it has worked… I can’t stop thinking about it. I just want to know now!’ said Lucy.
‘I know, I remember… it’s like torture,’ empathized Tor.
‘Would I have felt anything change in my body yet if I was pregnant? What are the telltale clues?’ asked Lucy.
‘At this stage it’s very unlikely that you would notice anything,’ said Tor. ‘I know it’s really hard but you’ve got to try and lower your expectations a bit. It is so unlikely to have worked the first time… I don’t want to be pessimistic but I remember how crushing dashed hopes can be.’
‘You’re right,’ said Lucy. ‘It’s just so hard when you want it to work so desperately.’
‘Just remember, if this one hasn’t worked you need to focus on looking forward, plan the next cycle, never give up hope,’ said Tor, giving her friend a reassuring hug.
Lucy remembered this advice as she waited for the result to reveal itself. It was two weeks since her first insemination and she was sitting on the loo, her hands trembling as she clutched onto the little stick that she had just peed on. There was no one else in her flat but her. She had promised to call her friends if there was good news, but she wanted to find out whether it had worked or not by herself. In the days that had passed since her appointment she had scrutinized every twinge that her body had made, trying to detect a change. At night she found herself dreaming of babies, she would even dream about being pregnant, then wake up expecting to feel a bump, reaching down to her tummy only to realize that it had just been a figment of her imagination. It was a strange experience, this waiting process, but it was now time to find out if the insemination had worked. She could have waited one more day to see if her period arrived but she just couldn’t bear not knowing for a second longer.
Having waited the requisite three minutes, she looked down at the stick, her trembling hand covering the important part to the left which would reveal her fate. The little diamond window which showed her when the results were ready to read had a thick blue line running through the centre. It was the moment of truth. She slowly uncurled her hand from the small circle that hid the results. A horizontal line across the middle meant not pregnant, while the shape of a cross would mean that she was pregnant. As her eyes focussed on the results, disappointment flooded her body like a tidal wave. A single blue line was all she could see. She was not pregnant. It hadn’t worked. Tears sprung into her eyes and she was hit like a sledgehammer by the realization that her dreams had not come true. Lucy had never before been so aware of just how desperately she wanted this baby. She felt crushed with disappointment. It was only when she saw the evidence that it had failed that she really knew how much she wanted it to have worked. She repeated the test three times, each time knowing that she would see the same thin, blue line; the bitter disappointment was so strong she could almost taste it.
She texted Tor, Claudia and Nicola, and rang her mother, who did well to mask her relief. Each woman gave her the same reassuring message; these things take time, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. No one really gets pregnant on their first attempt, after all. Lucy knew that the statistics were not in her favour and that it was extremely unlikely that it should have worked straight away. She knew that she would go ahead and book in for her second cycle the following month, and tried hard to keep thinking positive thoughts as she counted down the days until her next appointment.
As the second treatment day dawned in December, Lucy’s nerves jangled as she made her way to the clinic. This time she had decided to go alone, feeling less nervous now that she knew how the procedure worked. She took her seat in the now familiar waiting room, struck as always by how many other women were seeking fertility treatment of some kind. Some were alone, like her, and others were with their husbands or partners. As she waited, a rather red-faced man came rushing back to the reception desk, blushing furiously.
‘How can I help you, sir?’ asked the receptionist politely.
‘Oh, err, gosh… this is rather embarrassing…’ stammered the man.
The receptionist waited patiently for him to continue. ‘I’ve just come out of one of your… err… treatment rooms and well, I err… I appear to have left something in there…’ he tailed off awkwardly.
‘Okay,’ said the receptionist. ‘Not to worry. If you could just tell me what it is, exactly, that you left behind I will go and have a look for you.’
Lowering his voice to barely more than a whisper, he muttered, ‘It’s my wedding ring.’ By this point the man had gone puce. Lucy surmised that the room was clearly where the sperm samples were collected!
Her eavesdropping was interrupted by the sound of a nurse calling her name and she duly followed her to the treatment room. As she had done the previous time, she climbed onto the couch and the nurse asked her to put her legs into the stirrups. It was a bit like having a smear test, the nurse inserted the speculum and Lucy closed her eyes and prayed as she went through the motions of carrying out the insemination, willing her body to do whatever it took to get pregnant; repeating positive mantras over and over in her mind. She envied all the women who were able to conceive naturally, in the privacy of their own homes, without being prodded and poked in the process.
Having waited a short amount of time following the treatment she set off for home. Her mind was reeling with the momentous events of the day, with each cycle of treatment she felt as if the stakes were increasing, not least due to the expense of each round, yet at the same time she tried to take the pressure off herself, knowing there was nothing she could actually do but wait. It was in the hands of fate. As a reward for her efforts, she decided to treat herself to a chai latte from the coffee shop in Holland Park on the way home. She felt the need to be in familiar surroundings, unready to go home quite yet, and she wanted to walk around the gardens, giving herself space and time to think.
The bus trundled slowly along Bayswater Road as she made her way from Harley Street to Holland Park and Lucy sat on the top deck, looking out of the window as they passed Hyde Park and Notting Hill Gate. She saw the Irish guy from the coffee shop walking along the pavement with his dog, the one who had spilled coffee all over the table. What was his name again? she thought to herself. Rory, that was it. Seeing him brought back memories of the day she had found Alex’s ring. She blinked as the old tide of emotion flooded through her, the aching sense of loss that still surprised her with its force from time to time. She acknowledged the memories and let them go, smiling to herself as she reminded herself to stay in the moment.
She got off the bus and strolled from Holland Park tube through the top part of the gardens towards the cafe, occasionally moving her hand to her belly, as if willing a miracle to occur deep within her. The crisp air nipped at her cheeks as she retreated deeper into her coat. A bright pink cashmere scarf was wrapped around her neck and the matching gloves that Claudia had given her the previous Christmas kept her fingers from turning numb. The thought of Christmas made her think of heading home to Cornwall in a few weeks’ time. She was looking forward to it and most especially to seeing her brother, who was once again returning home for his annual visit to colder climes. This time he was coming over from Argentina, having relocated across the globe to follow his beautiful, new South American girlfriend, Sofia. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be coming with him, as she wanted to spend Christmas with her family in Buenos Aires. But still, Lucy was longing to see photographs of the happy couple and to see for herself how smitten Ollie appeared to be. At long last, a woman had managed to capture his interest for longer than a few months. She must be something special!
As Lucy walked through the gardens, she was struck by how barren the trees looked, they seemed naked without their coating of leaves. The four seasons had always been one of Lucy’s favourite things about living in England, though as she was getting older the frequency and speed at which they seemed to come and go alarmed her more and more. She had always looked forward to the oncoming change. By the time the summer was over she longed for the warmth of her winter clothes, wrapping up tightly against the cold, the dark evenings spent next to burning log fires, sipping red wine and staying inside as the wind roared and the rain banged against the window panes. By the time winter had got into full swing she began to long for the awakening of spring, the days getting longer, and the air beginning to warm. Then came the summer, with melting ice creams and long limbs lounging on the grass, basking in the sunshine; before autumn came and the perfect cycle began once again. She had always felt there was something immensely reassuring about the passing of the seasons and had felt sorry for those who would never know what it felt like to live under the influence of this ceaseless tide. She hoped that during the next few seasons her own body would go through a changing cycle of its own, that this time next year she would have her own baby, her own new life to celebrate.