The pregnancy test came back negative, but there was little relief. Freddie and I had run aground. I loved him – he was wild and free and had taught me so much – but it was too hard to come back from that. He left me soon afterwards.
A similar thing happened with Vince – my periods were patchy, but, when they were late, I worried. Our relationship was very tumultuous. Once he went through my emails and found a message from Freddie, who was simply asking how I was; but, the way Vince reacted, I might as well have been cheating on him. He flew into a jealous rage, punched the wall and kicked over the furniture. When I thought I might be pregnant with his baby, I was horrified. It was obvious we needed to call time on our relationship.
Soon afterwards, my periods stopped completely. I must’ve been in denial, because it took me way too long to get myself checked out.
I was twenty-four when a doctor told me I had POF – premature ovarian failure. Twenty-four and I had gone through the menopause.
I would never have children.
The news devastated me.
I had already met Olli by this point, but my decision to quit my job at the travel magazine was not as simple as my boss returning from maternity leave and my feeling as if I’d been given a demotion. Nor was my decision to return to cruise ships down to the fact that I could drop in on Olli in Iceland from time to time.
The truth was, I needed to get away. I was running.
I didn’t tell anyone about my diagnosis at first. That would have made it more real and, at the time, I think I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. When Olli and I fizzled out, I consoled myself by playing the field. I’d cruise-coordinate and blog by day, and play hard by night; but sometimes the reality of my situation would keep me awake at night and I’d lie there with tears streaming down my face, picturing a future without children in it. I tried to reassure myself that I could adopt, but I was overwhelmingly sad at the realisation that I would never have a baby of my own.
Charlie was right to some extent – Mum was terrible at being a mum – and, during the Freddie scare, I had asked myself if I’d fare any better. As time passed, I tried to convince myself that I didn’t need children – that I didn’t evenwantthem. Anything to stop the sadness from weighing me down. I couldn’t bear it.
Dillon came along – I hopped off the boat and toured Ireland with him and his band, throwing myself into his fun, crazy lifestyle. But going to Dublin with him and staying with his parents showed me another side to him. All of a sudden, I could picture a future with him. I had fallen for him hard, but I didn’t trust him, and I hated being out of control. I left before he could hurt me. But it hurt nonetheless.
And then came Liam.
After almost two years of wilderness, I returned to London to take another job at a travel magazine. Liam and I had instant chemistry.
A work trip to San Sebastian in Spain was where it all kicked off. Just the two of us had gone, and we were away for two nights, which was all the time we needed to go from colleagues to lovers.
I told Liam I couldn’t have children within a few months of our realising how much we liked each other. I struggled to hold in my emotion when I confessed – I was still coming to terms with it myself – and Liam did his best to be strong for me. Naturally, it was far too early to tell where our relationship was headed.
We were together for almost two years, but Liam came from a big family and he had always wanted to have children himself. When it sank in that I really wouldnevergive birth to his baby – this wasn’t a case of our being able to have IVF, as he had presumed – it hit him hard. Our relationship wasn’t strong enough to survive and he broke up with me.
Liam is now married with two children. I know exactly where he is, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to go and see him yet.
I never told Beau about my POF. He was three years younger than I and we just didn’t talk about serious stuff like that. Somewhere, deep down, I knew we weren’t going to last.
Felix and I were on again, off again, but I was open upfront. I was almost thirty when we met and I’d had a few years to come to terms with everything. Felix reacted well, saying that, if we ever got that far, we could adopt. But we never got that far. After Felix, I avoided getting into another relationship for a long time.
And then Elliot came along. I broke down when he told me early on that he never wanted to be a father. He had split up with his last two girlfriends because they had become broody, so he immediately assumed that my tearful reaction to his confession was a nail in the coffin of our relationship. When I told him about my condition and about what had happened with Liam, it seemed too good to be true that we were on the same page. I allowed him to believe I was crying with relief, but inside I was wrecked. His refusal to have a family sealed my fate. If we stayed together, as I believed we would, no one would ever call me Mummy.
‘So when you say those things to me, about me being a good mum... It hurts,’ I tell Charlie, brushing tears away. ‘I’ve managed to convince myself that I don’t even want children. I don’t need to know that maybe I do have maternal bones in my body, because that’s just going to cause me more pain.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmurs sympathetically.
I sniff. ‘I think it might be time for a seven-second hug,’ I mumble.
He smiles at me in the darkness. ‘I can do better than that.’
He lies back and holds his arm out. Without thinking, I follow his lead. His arm folds around me as he pulls me snug against his chest.
‘Sorry for bringing the mood down,’ I apologise.
‘Don’t say that. I’m glad you told me so I won’t keep putting my foot in it. I’m sorry I kept pushing you.’
‘It’s okay, don’t worry,’ I reply tearfully. ‘God, I really do want to stop crying now.’
‘Would it help if I warned you not to snot on my T-shirt? I get enough of that from April.’
I laugh and he tightens his grip on me. The ache within my chest is easing, but it’s being replaced by a different sort of ache altogether.
