Mornings off, even at the weekend, were rarer than hen’s teeth at this stage of a major investigation. Nevertheless, Warren had made a promise to himself that he would at least have a leisurely breakfast with his wife. It was now well into December, and Christmas was fast approaching. The festive season had been overshadowed the previous year by the couple’s recent loss, and Warren was determined to make up for that.
He’d also sent a text the previous evening, ordering the rest of his team to have a lie-in – nobody was to set foot in the office before 10 a.m. At least the threatened snow hadn’t materialised.
The previous night’s discussion had gone better than Warren had hoped. He’d arrived home late and was worried that despite his best intentions he would need to postpone their talk until the following morning. But Susan was waiting for him, and to his surprise not only was the brochure from the fertility clinic open, the clinic website was displayed on her laptop.
‘We have the money, we should do it,’ she greeted him.
Warren had been expecting, if not an argument, then at least a lengthy conversation. But if there was one thing he had learned about his wife, it was that when she made a decision the last thing she wanted to do was dither.
That night as they lay in bed, Susan started talking. It was pitch-black, but he could tell from her voice that if he turned the light on, he’d see the shine of tears in her eyes.
‘I’m scared.’
The statement was as profound as it was simple.
‘When the first couple of attempts failed, when the pregnancy tests came back negative, I was able to kid myself that it wasn’t a big deal. It was disappointing but life goes on, you know? I was lying to myself, but I could cope. After all, we’d been trying the old-fashioned way for so long, I was used to it. I didn’t let myself truly feel hope.’
She gave a big sigh. Warren said nothing, just squeezed her hand.
‘When I got pregnant last autumn, I finally started to let a bit of that hope in. I knew that there was a long way to go – for any pregnancy, let alone twins – but I couldn’t help myself.’
Her voice caught and Warren kissed her head. There was nothing he could say. There was nothing he needed to say; he just needed to let his wife speak without interruption. All she wanted was for him to listen.
‘When we lost them, it just hurt so much. I wasn’t ready for it; I never realised how much worse it would be than the other times.’
She turned her head. ‘And I’m scared how much it’ll hurt again.’
Warren recognised all the feelings she was describing. The constant disappointments, month after month, as they tried to get pregnant. Then the cautious optimism that he too had tried to repress, which nevertheless was soul-crushing when thwarted by another failed implantation.
And then the excitement that he just couldn’t dampen when the pregnancy test finally came back positive. He remembered the fear in the pit of his stomach as they went for the ultrasound and then the elation as the ultrasound detected not one, but two tiny heartbeats.
Then the elation turned to dread; he was going to be a father! How the hell was he qualified to be a dad? To two of them. What if he messed up? What if he was a disappointment? What if he couldn’t be there? If he was snatched away like Gary Hastings?
Yet despite knowing it intellectually, the only fear he never really considered was Susan losing the babies. Miscarriage happened to other couples. They’d fought so hard for these babies, surely the universe – surely God – had decided it was time to reward them? And to reward them with not one but two?
But it wasn’t to be. The 11thof November 2015 was the day the universe showed it wasn’t ready to let them off the hook just yet.
The pain had nearly broken him; Susan too, although she had tried not to show it.
But her steadfast avoidance of the topic in the months gone by had made the damage clear to him. He’d felt himself sinking into despair. How could he fix something when he couldn’t even address the problem?
Would they try again, or not? He didn’t know, but he knew that it was a decision that they had to make together, and to do that they had to talk. And so he’d taken the gamble. Asking for the brochure, if only to act as a catalyst for a conversation that he didn’t know how to start otherwise.
Finally Warren had whispered back in Susan’s ear. ‘I’m scared too.’