A Mother's Choice by Elle Halliwell

Author:Elle Halliwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2018-03-06T05:00:00+00:00

Drilling Down

It may span just over three months, but ask a new mum how long her first trimester of pregnancy felt and most will say much longer than that, for so many reasons. First, there is the worry over whether or not the pregnancy will stick; every trip to the toilet involving the holding of breath until you can stand up and check the bowl isn’t specked with red. Red, the colour of danger, the symbol of ‘stop’.

Then there’s the at-times unbearable nausea, which can be triggered by anything from a work colleague’s egg salad to the collective whiff of post-work armpits keeping you company on the evening bus commute.

But patiently waiting to explain the reason for your newfound obsession with empire-line frocks and cheese, honey and pickle sandwiches to friends can be excruciating.

For Nick and me, telling loved ones about our surprise pregnancy was something we were happy to postpone. We had already broken tragic news; we didn’t want to have to deal another blow, at least so soon.

But having nobody else to talk to but each other was extremely isolating. I wanted to unload all of my feelings—my fears, my sorrows, my pain—onto someone else, to share the uncertainty, to be comforted and be told that I would—no, we would—be ok.

But I had to hold my tongue. I had to lie.

‘When do you start treatment?’ friends would inevitably ask when I told them about the cancer.

‘I’m not sure; I have to discuss fertility options first. But fill me in on what’s happening in the land of the living,’ I’d say brightly, trying to direct the conversation away from tricky questions. And my answer wasn’t completely untrue. At that stage, terminating the pregnancy and freezing my eggs was the most reasonable, sane choice. It would enable me to begin attacking my leukaemia within a couple of months, and I’d have a backup plan if the proposed treatment affected my reproductive system, which was a possibility. I would have to be on the drugs for at least five years before we could even consider trying for a baby, according to Prof. By this time I would be 36. It wasn’t exactly old, but it would technically put me in the category of ‘geriatric mother’. I had fallen pregnant easily this time, but had no idea whether that was just a fluke. Would I be able to fall pregnant in five or six years time? Would I still even be alive in five years time?

I had so many questions myself that I was hardly in a position to answer any from well-meaning friends.

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