1973 – aged 18
When Lilly fully came round it took her a beat to understand that she was in a ward with ten beds along one side and ten more on the other.
Women were sitting up, tucked beneath pristine white sheets like dolls.
Her stomach pulsed with the dull ache of loss and the lower half of her body was very sore.
The level of discomfort was unexpected. She had, in her naivety, thought it would all be over once the procedure was complete, that she’d be able to pop her jeans back on and walk slowly home, letting her thoughts settle and the sight of the river calm her.
The sadness that rippled through her, however, was entirely expected as tears trickled over her temple, a visceral reaction as her distress leaked from her.
Her baby was gone.
Her link to Wilkie gone.
His lingering presence, the last connection that would have kept them bound for life, had been severed.
The sound of mewling was the first clue that she was in a ward for new mothers and their babies.
Looking to the bed next to her, Lilly smiled weakly at the new mum in her twenties who was feeding her baby, feeling a flare of envy laced with distress.
The woman opposite applied mascara while her newborn slept in a plastic crib on wheels next to the bed.
It was almost more than she could stand, seeing these new mothers, hearing a child’s cry.
The silence around her bed, the absence of a bassinet, were physical reminders that it was all over for her.
It was a silence that she had always hated, feared even, one that carried weight.
The voice of reason told her she needed to do her best to put it behind her and get on with her life, but her heart wasn’t listening.
Placing her hand on her stomach, she was surprised to find a wad of bandage, gauze and medical tape, as if she had been injured.
This, too, was most unexpected, as was the pulse of pain that came from the contact.
It was some while before Dr Rudd strode through the ward and pulled the yellow, orange and pink curtain open around her bed, the thin floral cotton offering only a modicum of privacy.
‘Mrs Cooper, how are we feeling?’
‘Sore.’ She spoke from a mouth that was dry, voice croaky, her lips stuck together.
‘That’s to be expected. We can get you some tea.
’ He took a step closer and put his hands behind his back.
‘I’m afraid I have some rather bad news.
’ His tone, contrary to what his words suggested, was buoyant, indifferent almost, overly loud, practised but seemingly not adjusted for good news, bad or the worst. The very worst.
Lilly stared at him, wondering briefly if something had happened to her dad, this the worst news she could imagine!
And just the thought of him at home along the river, no doubt smiling as he imagined her on her field trip, was enough to encourage more tears.
She watched as Dr Rudd rocked on his heels and spoke as he looked over her shoulder towards the glossy magnolia-painted wall behind her bed.
‘As can happen on the odd occasion, we experienced some difficulties in what should have been a rather routine procedure. There was a severe uterine perforation that resulted in us taking the decision to perform a hysterectomy. Do you know what that is?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she whispered, thinking she might know but figuring she must be mistaken, as the consequences of such a thing . . .
‘It means we had to make an incision in your tummy and remove your womb, cervix and uterus. It was entirely necessary, and I’m delighted to say was a great success – no bleeding, no more issues – but it does also mean that there will no more babies, not for you, but there we are.
’ He nodded and took a breath. ‘I will say to you what I say to all women who find themselves in a similar situation: you are young, you and your husband will learn to adapt and will find joy and satisfaction in other areas of your lives, like hobbies and travel. It could be very exciting! There is also always adoption, of course. Plenty of babies looking for nice Christian homes.’
Lilly stared at him; there was so much to take in, to unpick, she found herself struck dumb. His words were a cryptic jumble in her mind, a code it would take her a little while to decipher.
‘Right.’ Dr Rudd opened the thin curtain, the closing of which had done nothing to prevent all in close proximity hearing his dire news.
The woman in the bed opposite gave her a slow smile of kindness.
‘A nurse will be along in a short while to bring you some tea and you will be able to go home in about a week to ten days.’
‘Ten days?’ she said, her voice quite hoarse.
‘All being well.’ And just like that he was gone.
She sat for a while, a little numb, a little confused, trying to make sense of it all while a nurse did indeed bring her a cup of tea.
No more babies . . . What did he mean exactly, no more babies? It was a most bizarre concept that failed to register in her mind. No more babies . . . Surely he didn’t mean not ever? That couldn’t be right.
‘Can I get you anything else? Would you like a cheese sandwich?’ the young nurse asked, softly. Lilly was glad of her kindness, relieved the obnoxious sister was absent.
‘No. No, thank you, but I think I might need to make a telephone call.’
‘I can bring the payphone on wheels to your bed. Do you want it now?’
‘In a little bit, if that’s okay?’ She wanted to get things straight in her thoughts and figure out exactly what she was going to say.
‘’Course it is.’ The nurse winked at her. ‘I’ll bring it over.’
Lilly knew she had to call someone, tell someone; the question was, who?
Certainly not her dad. And not for the first time in her life, she wished she had the kind of mum who she could call.
This alone was enough to cause her to sink down under the sheets and close her eyes.
No more babies . . . She was eighteen! How was that even possible?
Gathering herself, unable to move with ease, Lilly did her best to twist towards the phone and held the coins in the palm of her hand.
Glenda’s mum answered almost immediately.
‘Oh hello, Lilly love, how’s you?’ The warm sing-song question sounded motherly and interested and was a chop to her throat; how come other people got mothers like this while she got Jeannie the cheat?
‘I’m fine, Mrs Brooks.’ The last thing she wanted to do was make small talk, fearful of being overcome by emotion and blurting the whole terrible truth out about where she was and what she had been through, knowing that the God-fearing Mrs Brooks would not let Glenda associate with her then.
This was a thought that struck fear into her.
Almost as much as the words of Dr Rudd, no more babies .
. . She figured there must have been some kind of mistake, surely that couldn’t be true!
‘Is Glenda there?’ She spoke with her eyes closed, shutting out the other women, their husbands, the babies and the general hubbub of the maternity ward that echoed around her, emphasising her solitude and holding up a mirror to a life that wasn’t hers.
‘Yep, one sec. Glenda! Phone! It’s Lilly!’ Mrs Brooks called loudly. ‘She’s coming, Lilly. See you soon, love.’
More pips sounded, and Lilly topped up the coins, waiting for her friend and wishing she’d get a move on.
‘Hello, mate!’ Glenda sounded pleased to hear from her.
Lilly tried to speak, tried to form the words she knew she needed to say, but at no more than the sound of her friend’s voice her sadness broke its banks and she could only sob wordlessly.
‘Oh my God, Lil! What’s wrong? What’s happened?’
‘Can you come and see me, please. Please, please, Glen, please!’ It was the first time she had begged for anything in her whole life.
‘Of course I can. I’ll come tomorrow. Where shall we meet? College?’
‘No.’ She sniffed, doing her best to control her breathing and halt her tears. ‘I’m . . . I’m in St Thomas’s, in . . . in the maternity ward.’
‘What you doing there?’ Glenda laughed, and Lilly understood; it really was as preposterous as it sounded.
‘I’ve been admitted.’
‘I don’t—’ Her friend swallowed. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Promise me you’ll come, Glen! Please!’ she pleaded again.
‘I’ll be there. I’ll be there, I promise. Just hold on, Lil. Sleep, rest and I’ll see you tomorrow. Everything’s going to be okay.’
Lilly replaced the receiver and slunk down on to the mattress as the incision on her stomach throbbed with pain.
No more babies . . . This the phrase that still rang around her head. No more babies . . . And as much as she trusted her friend, she wasn’t so sure that everything was going to be okay, not ever again.
Ten days later, Lilly managed to take a bath, and had even washed her hair before Glenda arrived to collect her, doing her best to look like she had spent the time at the seaside living it up with her friend, studying art, taking in the sea air, and not like she’d been cooped up in a ward feeling as if the world around her was being dismantled piece by piece.
And not just any hospital ward, but the maternity ward, where women with shiny gold bands on the third fingers of their left hands left with blanket-wrapped newborns tucked into their arms like hot, fresh loaves, smiling with a satisfaction and love that she would never feel.
She did her very best to put it out of her mind. The word, the meaning, the consequences of a thing like a hysterectomy, all of it. To be considered when she felt a little more stable and the risk of her falling apart had faded. God, how she hoped it would fade.
Glenda had proved to be the most wonderful friend, there in her time of need, which Lilly knew she would never forget.
Not ever. She felt awful about embroiling her in the lie, but it had seemed like the lesser of two evils, in that Glenda might be quietly disapproving, but Lilly having to tell her own dad, she was sure, might just kill him.