Chapter 9
Esther had undergone more scans than she ever expected to as a woman who was yet to conceive, all in an attempt to uncover why she hadn’t.
She knew she was lucky that money wasn’t an issue for her and Joe when it came to fertility treatment, and they didn’t have to wait to reach the top of the NHS waiting list to start IVF.
It was heartbreaking to read some of the messages in the forums she’d joined online, with some women having to wait almost three years before their treatment started and some being refused treatment altogether, because their partner already had a child from a previous relationship, or their age or weight was just beyond the limit for the NHS trust where they were living.
The financial freedom she and Joe enjoyed undoubtedly took the pressure off in some ways, but it didn’t relieve the crushing weight of dread that nothing they tried might work.
They’d had some initial tests that had shown no concerns and yet there was still no baby.
They’d been talking for a while about starting IVF, but it had been the meeting with the infertility support group that had convinced Esther she didn’t want to wait any longer and just ‘keep trying’ until they reached the two-year mark, as one doctor they’d seen had suggested.
His reasoning had been that there were no medical issues identified preventing Esther from becoming pregnant, so a natural conception should still be ‘quite likely’.
Logically she knew that this wasn’t her ‘fault’.
They’d already been told their infertility was unexplained, but even if this new clinic did find something, that didn’t mean anyone was to blame.
The rational part of her understood that, but she couldn’t seem to find that part of herself in the dead of night, when she woke up consumed with worry that the clinic was going to find something which would pin their inability to conceive on her.
She had no idea how she’d deal with that, or even begin to process the information.
If it was an issue with Joe, she knew without a shadow of doubt that all she would want to do was comfort and reassure him that it didn’t matter, and they’d find a way to navigate whatever they were facing together.
Yet she couldn’t imagine talking to herself in that same way, because she’d feel like a failure, despite knowing that the idea of that was ridiculous.
That was the thing, nothing about this experience was rational or logical, because there was far too much emotion involved.
The night before, she’d woken from a dream so vivid that it felt more like a nightmare.
In the dream, she’d been standing in the hallway of the house she shared with Joe, the door to the kitchen ajar, the conversation within filtering out to where she stood.
Another woman, whose face she couldn’t see and whose voice she didn’t recognise, was telling Joe that she was having his baby.
Esther had screamed in her dream, a sound that had become a strangled kind of noise as she sat bolt upright in bed, painful seconds passing before she could be sure it had all been a figment of her imagination.
Just part of the tangled, turmoil of emotion filling her head day and night.
‘I love you so much, I want you to remember that, whatever today brings.’ Joe’s words almost made Esther jump, she was so lost in her thoughts. She tried to smile, but her mouth wouldn’t comply.
‘I love you too.’ She meant the words with every fibre of her being and yet she could hear how robotic they sounded.
Esther didn’t want to hear yet another version of how she was enough for Joe.
She knew he was saying those things for the right reasons, but the longing to be a mother was an aching chasm inside her that Joe’s words couldn’t fill and she was frightened nothing would.
She’d read countless articles about how to come to terms with infertility and to find the joy in living a childfree life.
She’d wanted those tools to provide her with the foundation for her original plan B, learning to love the idea of life as a childfree couple, so that she could look into Joe’s eyes and mean it when she said that he was enough for her too.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t imagine loving a life in which she never became a mother.
Esther was an only child, and having almost lost her father to cancer a couple of years before, the realisation that they couldn’t just keep waiting and hoping wasn’t linked solely to her age, and the effect that had on her fertility.
Thank goodness her dad was now much better, but her parents wouldn’t be around forever, and she wanted them to meet her child, and for that child to have the chance to experience the love she’d had from her parents.
Some days the tick tock of time passing felt so overwhelming that it was all she could hear, and today was one of those days.
‘Shall we get this over and done with then?’ Joe put his arm around her waist and she allowed herself to lean against his chest. Just for that brief moment she was almost able to believe it really would all be okay, as long as she had him.
‘Yes, let’s get it over and done with, so we know what we’re dealing with if they find anything that the initial tests didn’t.
’ Esther took a step forward, wondering if Joe could feel her shaking.
She was desperately trying to convince herself that today would turn out to be their first step on the journey to parenthood, but she couldn’t let go of the sense of foreboding that seemed determined to dog her.
She had to keep trying, though, and believing that one day she’d get to stand next to Joe and tell him that he was going to be a father, no matter how hard it was to keep the faith.
The worst times were when she’d wake up with a jolt thinking about it, almost as if a voice had been whispering that she’d never be the one who’d get to say those words to him, but that maybe someone else would.
It was a ridiculous notion, Joe couldn’t have made it any clearer that he’d choose her every time, whatever happened in their quest to become parents.
Yet it was still there, the lingering sensation that she couldn’t quite shake off, no matter how hard she tried.
Suddenly the thought of the tests wasn’t so awful after all.
At least it would give her something else to focus on, and right now she desperately needed that.
The drive from Port Agnes to Tenby took five hours and the closer Hope got to home, the stronger the pull felt.
The house where she’d grown up was a five-storey Georgian property, painted in sky blue, with direct views of sea and the breathtaking expanse of sand at North Beach, which had always felt to Hope like an extension of the house itself.
There were tunnels that ran underneath the house that were the subject of many a myth and legend.
Hope’s father had delighted in telling his daughters the story of how fourteen-year-old Henry Tudor was alleged to have escaped to Brittany via the tunnels, in order to avoid capture by Edward IV.
Hope was certain that it had been those vivid stories, making it feel as if she and her sisters were right there, amongst the action, which had fed her eldest sister, Tabitha’s, passion for history.
She’d completed a doctorate in social history and started a podcast with two friends she’d met at university, alongside her job as a researcher at the museum.
She’d recently been invited to take part in a ‘talking heads’ TV show about women’s imprisonment through the ages.
Tabitha was as beautiful as she was brilliant and it was no surprise to Hope that her sister might well be on the road to a media career.
It was also no surprise to see Tabby now, striding across the sand in the direction of the house, with a paddleboard under her arm, as Hope drove into the car park at North Beach.
It was where she’d be leaving the car until she headed home again, because the one downside of their beautiful home and its wonderful view, was that there was no parking outside.
‘Tabby!’ Hope called out of the window and the smile that spread across her sister’s face at the sight of her lifted her spirits.
‘Oh my God, Hope. I didn’t know you were coming home!’ Tabitha had already closed the gap between herself and the car, and within less than a minute Hope had got out and the two of them were embracing. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wet.’
‘I don’t care.’ Hope grinned, genuinely not minding one little bit that her sister’s wetsuit had left a damp imprint all down the front of her dress.
‘And no one knew I was coming home. I didn’t even know myself until yesterday.
I’ve just finished a run of nights, and I’ve got four days off.
I couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather do with the time than come home.
You don’t think Mum and Dad will mind me just turning up unannounced, do you? ’
‘Are you mad?’ Tabitha shook her head, a look of incredulity making her eyes widen.
‘Only this morning Mum was looking at Airbnbs in Cornwall and talking to Dad about when would be a good time to visit you. You know they always want us to come home whenever we can, especially now that Bea is the last one left here full time, and I think that’s going to change soon… ’
‘Really, has she decided against a gap year?’