I lost my child at four months. It was unexpected and heartbreaking and I was only getting used to the idea of being a parent when that whole world was taken from me. It was only afterwards that I realized how I had wanted to become a mum more than anything in the entire world. I’m not sure it is even possible for me to become a parent any more, to be honest. I am 36 and the fates do not feel like they are playing on my side.
Esther
Ten minutes later, I see another email from Naomi. This is genuinely as thrilling as any new romance I’ve ever had.
Four months old, gosh. That’s a beautiful age. Babies are just starting to show their personalities and smile a little bit, right? I am devastated to hear that your child was so young, and just starting their life. I have met parents who will never get over the weight of carrying that small coffin. They can almost still feel it in their arms.
May his (or her?) memory be a blessing.
You say it’s not possible to become a parent, but know that you ARE one, whether your child is earthside or not.
And 36 is not too old! I am not familiar with your circumstances, but if you are referring to the biological clock (which I think you are), the dream of being a mom isn’t as out of reach as you think it is right now.
Having three young girls felt like a handful, like really full-on every day. Every night, when I closed the door on them at bedtime, I felt like an air stewardess who had just come off a long-haul flight. I kvetched a lot about how challenging it all was at the time while I was doing it, which is something I have had to take a lot of time to process. I’d give anything to be on that hamster wheel again.
My family– well, my husband’s family, perhaps more specifically– are supportive. They invite me over for the high holidays and stay in regular contact. I think it also helps them to have me there, to talk about David. He was an only child so I know they are feeling his loss hugely.
Take care of yourself, Esther. I am thinking of you and your little one today. The one thing I tell everyone is to remember you are incredibly strong. Much stronger than you could ever know.
‘Baby’. Four months. I could correct her, but I don’t strictly want to. I am wary of snuffing out the flame on all of this too soon, so I leave a burning question on the tip of my metaphorical tongue. What about your own family, the Levys? Where are they in all of this? How good a support is your own step-brother?
As I’m pondering all of this, I get a Facebook messagefrom Violet. ‘I see you are friends with TL on here,’ she writes. ‘How good of a friend are you exactly?’
I am keenly aware of the risk of stepping on toes here. Equally, I’m warmed by the rush I feel at being accepted by Violet. Singled out.
‘We’re not friends,’ I reply. ‘I requested his friendship and he accepted. I’m just a fan who stopped by online, wanted to say hi and good job to him. Not much more to it than that.’
‘Huh,’ she writes back. ‘I’ve been blocked from his page.’
‘I’ve joined your fan page,’ I tell her, though she obviously already knows this. ‘It seems like a really good place to hear about all things Ted-related. I like to keep track of what he’s doing in this career. He’s just fascinating as a performer! I love people who carry that much artistic integrity.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s where I saw your name. IKR? It’s a fun place to hang out. We’re all pretty tight, although most are a bit younger than you? How old are you exactly? Don’t be a lurker tho, get involved! We don’t bite! Unless asked!’
I’m thinking on how to put the glossiest spin I can on the bag of piss that is my life right now as I walk with Carrie to the cinema the following evening. But she beats me to it.
‘So,’ she breathes. ‘I don’t really know how to tell you this properly, but I’m pregnant.’
I feel the cold blood right down into my toes. I also instantly recall how coolly ungracious she was when I told her about my own pregnancy just last year. But now, she is the absolute picture of contentment. I’ve never seen her like this. Everything stiffens between us.
‘With the guy who can only handle one new person a week? And who I haven’t even met yet?’
‘Well, it’s not like I’ve kept him locked up in a cellar or anything. Brigitte’s met him, plenty of times. She’ll vouch for him.’
It’s meant to be a joke, but it’s landing like a toddler who has fallen into an open dishwasher. The whole street seems to darken.
‘Pregnant though, Jesus.’ I load my voice with as much concern as I possibly can. It still reeks of judgement.
‘I know,’ Carrie says, not caring to let the negativity fall in on her, if indeed she senses it. ‘My parents were a bit “whoa”, but they’re coming around, I think. Billy is made up.’
I think back to Johnny and his ‘my boys can swim’ moment and something snaps with a ‘thwack’.
‘You reckon he’s gonna stick around? He’ll have to meet more than one person a week for the rest of his life if he becomes a dad. I hope you’ve let him in on that.’
‘I know, there will be a lot to get used to. For both of us, I think.’
‘And what about your fabulous life? Work? You won’t be able to travel the way you do now.’
‘And that’sfine, Esther.’
