When we were having our fertility treatment, I promised that if I were lucky enough to fall pregnant, I would donate my eggs. I know what it is like not to be able to have children and if I could help someone else going through the same thing then I would. It was in 2001 when Charlotte had just turned one that I wrote to the hospital and told them that if they wanted them I was willing to donate them.
We had to practically go through the same routine as we did when we went through our own treatment. As well as my permission to take my eggs they also needed Steve's permission. We also had to be seen again by the psychiatrist. I'm assuming this was to make sure I was doing it for the right reasons. The only thing I had wanted to know is if they had been successful. I would have like to have known that I had helped someone. The answer was no.
The treatment wasn't quite the same, it was IVF treatment. Near to my ovulation I had to go to hospital at 8.00 am. Luckily the crèche where Charlotte was going was very good to me and took her at 7.30am and kept her until I got back. At the hospital, I along with everyone else had to take a number and wait in line. When my number came up I was blood tested for hormones and scanned for egg activity. I then had to phone in the afternoon to see if I was ready for drug taking or if I had to come back for another test. This was the same as my own fertility treatment except that it was in a different place with a lot more women. I was told that as I was donating that I could jump the queue but I just didn't feel right about doing it and so waited in line with everyone else. I had to go to the hospital 3 times for the blood test and scan. On the last time, whilst I was waiting, a woman came in and wafted past us all and just completely jumped to the front of the queue. When she was leaving, a woman who had been waiting with the rest of us very politely told her 'next time, take a number please'. Well the argument that erupted in the waiting room was incredible. The woman said that she was a doctor and had to get back to work, eruptions of 'we've all got jobs to get back to' then ensued to which she replied that as a doctor she was much more important than them. I'm surprised the woman wasn't lynched.
Anyway, after that, everyday for a few days I had to go to my local nurse and be injected. The last drug had to be delivered at 11pm so the nurse had to come to my house (there was none of this doing it yourself or getting your partner to do it). Two days later, Steve dropped me off at the hospital at 8am. My friend Linda had told me that she had heard from several people that extraction was incredibly painful and thought I was nuts. As I had been first into the hospital they took me down for extraction first. It was uncomfortable but certainly not painful. They asked me if I wanted to know how many eggs I had produced but I decided it was best not to know, however they did say I had worked hard.
After wheeling me back into the room I did feel incredibly faint but it passed after about 10 minutes and I gobbled down the breakfast they had brought in. I stayed another couple of hours and I left when Steve came with Charlotte to pick me up.
Six months later I had to have another HIV test to check that I didn't have HIV at the time I donated my eggs.
People have asked me what I would do if in 18 years time someone knocks on my door and says 'you're my real mum'. I am not their real mum. I may have helped create them but the woman who brought them up is their real mum. If they want to know things like medical background or anything like that then I will be happy to oblige, as I can understand that a child born from donor eggs/sperm would want to know their biological background.
2000 - Dad
As mentioned previously my father came over just after Charlotte was born in 2000 and he was evidently not well. In the three days that he spent with us he spent a lot of time lying down. My father had always been a bit of a hypochondriac and he would exaggerate the smallest ailment and of course nobody ever had it as bad as he did. I would like to point out that this is just my opinion of my father, my brothers and sister will probably disagree.
In the months that followed he was continuously going backwards and forwards to the Doctors, getting pills. I remember my mother telling me that the Doctor had finally given consent for him to have an x-ray. Apparently when they got to the hospital they found out that the radiologist was away for 2 weeks. I don't know how true this is as how does a hospital function without a radiologist?
In June of that year I phoned my father on father's day to say hello and he told me that he felt so bad that he hadn't got out of bed. I didn't think much of it because as I said he had always exaggerated his illnesses for sympathy. During that week my mother then phoned me to say that he had felt so bad on the Monday after I phoned that she took him down to their local accident and emergency, however when they got there they were told that there would be wait of at least 3 hours. My father had never been one for queuing and so they went back home.
On Friday my sister rang to tell me that he had been taken to hospital by ambulance that morning and she would ring me later to tell me any news. I still didn't think anything of it. I later heard that when the ambulance people arrived they told my mother that he would probably just get sent straight home. My sister rang me in the afternoon and told me through tears that he had cancer and only had a few weeks left.
I was devastated. After I put the phone down I looked at Charlotte and burst into tears. This man was never going to get to see his grandaughter grow up and she would never know him. It was too much and I cried for the rest of the day.
That evening we made plans to go to England and we left the next day. I spent the following week in England, going to see my father every day in hospital. It turned out he had pancreatic cancer. It was quite depressing as I could see he was losing his faculties and he was being quite nasty to my mother. Whilst I was there he had an operation that would pro-long his life by about 2 months. After the surgery I went to see him and he was crying, he said he'd wished he'd died during the surgery, that he didn't want to go through it anymore. I decided to come back to France, a decision I will always regret.
Steve's parents came out to France on Sunday 23rd July, exactly one month after my father had gone into hospital. Just as we sat down for lunch, my brother Mark rang me to tell me that he had died. I asked him how Janet was as I knew she'd take it really badly and then asked about mom who seemed to be taking it quite well. After putting the phone down I broke down in tears. I couldn't face Steve's parents and so went up to the bedroom and sobbed. Steve came in every now and then to check on me and then proposed that we went for a walk with Charlotte. Charlotte not being the first and foremost thing on my mind at this point was just picked up and put in the car. The walk did me some good, gave me some air, however half way round Charlotte started to cry and couldn't stop. When I checked her nappy, it was obvious she'd been sitting in pooh for a long time and her little bottom was red raw. I took the nappy off her and carried her the rest of the way back to the car, still crying.
Steve's parents left the next day to go on a golfing holiday and would be back on Saturday. We decided that there was no point rushing back to England, as there didn't seem any point. My mother informed me that the funeral would be the following Tuesday and so we booked our flights to go back on the Saturday. I couldn't face staying at my parent's house so we checked into a hotel nearby. On Monday before the funeral we had been invited to see the body, none of the others wanted to go as they had all been there when he died. As I hadn't been there, I wanted to see him one last time. I cried as soon as I saw him, his face was very gaunt and his body bloated. My mother had come with me and once again didn't react. I assumed she was either in shock, denial or didn't want to break down in front of the kids.
On the day of the funeral we dropped Charlotte off with Dawn. Janet started crying as soon as the hearse arrived. In the church, all four of us wept buckets. Again my mother remained quite stoic. Even a work colleague said 'the children crying are making the rest of us cry', not for mum it didn't.
The next day we went down to the cemetery with the ashes, children and all (and at this point there were 8 grandchildren, although Emma, the eldest, didn't come). Mark had been going to say a few words but instead he wrote it down and we all read it, he thought he would probably break down if he read it aloud. From the cemetery we all then walked one of my dad's favourite walks as a toast to his life.
We seem to appreciate the dead much more than the living. This is certainly true of my father. Since his death, the four of us put him up on a pedestal. Since his death in 2000 I have found out a few shocking things about my father but it's not enough to knock him off the pedestal.
Although Charlotte will never know her Grandfather, fortunately 2 months before he died we had a professional photo of Charlotte done with Gran and Grandad which now takes pride of place in her bedroom.
About 3 months after his death I invited my mother out to stay with me for a week. It became quite clear very quickly that the relationship she had with my father was not all I thought it was. Every time I spoke about him, it would always be a good memory, like how he had always fixed everything, or played with us in the garden. Each time my mother would counteract with something negative to the point it was starting to bother me and decided I would mention it to her the next time she did it. She did it again and I pointed out to her that every time she spoke about dad it was always in a negative way. Her response to this was that the way we all spoke about dad you'd think he was some kind of saint and had we all forgotten all the things she'd done for us. I was shocked at her outburst and accused her of being jealous of a dead man. The rest of the day was practically spent in silence.
The next morning, when my mother came downstairs for breakfast, the first thing she said was 'why shouldn't I say anything bad about your father, it's not as if he never said anything bad about me'. I was shocked and to be quite honest I lost respect for her this day. My response to this question was 'because he's dead and you don't bad mouth your childrens' father.'
Cutting what could be a very long story short, reactions and conversations that I have had since my father's death with my mother, have lead me to the conclusion that at the end, my mother didn't really love my father very much. Certainly she is jealous of him and I now steer clear of talking about him with her, which is a shame.
2000 - 2008 - Charlotte
We had enrolled Charlotte at our local nursery, mainly because it would give me some time during the week when my OU restarted and so that Charlotte could mix with other children. The first time she went was on her first birthday, 2001. What a birthday present, happy birthday Charlotte. The plan was that the first time she would stay for only ½ an hour and I would stay too. She would then go the next day but I would leave. It would then be every day for a week gradually increasing the time she stayed as she got used to it. This was the plan. The first day went as planned and I stayed. She wasn’t walking yet but she followed me everywhere. The women tried to distract her but failed miserably. The next day was the day when I left her for the first time. I could still hear her screaming half way down the road. She went every day of the following week but we never managed to increase the time she stayed, as she was so upset. The following week she went twice a week and we managed to get the time up to an hour – she should have been at 3 hours by now.
In our interview they had told us that if sometimes the children can’t get used to it they ask the parents to take the children out for a couple of months and then try again but apparently this rarely happened. Just before the winter half-term they told me that she just wasn’t adapting and if after the holidays things weren’t any better they would ask me to take her out and try again later. She went back after the holidays and the difference was incredible. Even the women said it was amazing how she just suddenly adapted. She started going regularly every Monday and Wednesday morning for 3 hours.
Everything was fine, I was able to take up my OU again studying ‘Software Systems and their Development’. I would study on the mornings she was at nursery and in the afternoon while she had her nap. However in June came a notice that the nursery would be shutting down from September to December for refurbishment. They had a back up plan which involved using half of another nursery in town but it would only be for mothers who worked and it would have to be every day from 1pm to 4pm. I didn’t really feel Charlotte was ready to go every day so decided that I would keep her at home and wait for the normal nursery to open again.
This lasted for one day. As I sat down to do my studies the first day in September I rapidly found out that I couldn’t do it and look after Charlotte. I phoned the nursery in a complete state of panic asking what I could do. Bring her down they said, I did and up until the end of October she went every day from 1pm to 4pm. From October, because I had finished my studies for the year and taken my exam they asked me to cut down her hours to 4pm to 6pm. I couldn’t argue with it, I wasn’t doing anything.
The only thing that started to become evident at this point was that Charlotte no longer needed a nap in the afternoon. If she was with me I kept her going till the evening, that way she went to bed for the night earlier. However the days she went to nursery she was taking her nap and then in the evening was not falling asleep until 9pm. More on this later.
When Charlotte was 18 months old I started taking her to tumbletots. This was held in another town 30 minutes away and contained mainly English speaking mothers and their children. The set up was that there would be songs to start with, then the toys would come out and the children would play whilst the mothers had a chat, coffee and biscuits, then more songs. Although Charlotte enjoyed the songs she never really interacted with the other children. When it came to playing with the toys, Charlotte stayed by my side the whole time.
I met some very nice people although some did not remain friends, not because we fell out just because our children grew up and started school and thus the mothers lost contact. However I did meet two very nice women with whom I am still friends with today. Emma who was married to a French man and had a little boy Ryan just two months older than Charlotte. Emma is quite extrovert and not shy about introducing herself where as I am quite the opposite. However Emma wasn’t happy in France and just before Christmas 2002 she announced she was moving back to England. They now live near Bournemouth, she’s had another baby and I have been to see her twice.
My other friend, Becky I met through Emma. She has two children, a boy 2 years older than Charlotte and a girl 6 months older. I wouldn’t say we hit it off straightaway but that’s only because we are so similar. We are both shy and have similar views on things. When Emma left it seemed to throw us together, plus the fact that we lived in the same town. Three years on, she is probably my closest friend here and I can tell her anything and I hope the reverse applies. However, Becky has also now returned to England.
When Charlotte was 2 (the beginning of 2002) she started to go to nursery 3 times a week. The only worry we had was that she wasn’t speaking French, in fact she wasn’t really speaking anything, but when she did, she spoke in English. The women at the nursery assured me that she understood everything they said she just didn’t speak it.
In September 2003 Charlotte started school. The set up here in France is quite different to that in England. Children start school the year they become 3 although it's not obligatory until they become 6. That is they start school in September if they become 3 during January – December of that year. For example, Charlotte narrowly missed out on starting school a year earlier because she was born on 11th January. If she had been born 12 days earlier she would have started school a year earlier. This might seem young to be starting school but the school they start is called ‘maternelle’ and is a bit like pre-school and is not obligatory, however I don’t know anyone who doesn’t send their kids to the maternelle. When Charlotte started school, because they were late in changing to another building, the school she went to was too small and therefore as I didn’t work they asked me to keep her in the afternoons. This didn’t bother me at all as it would only be for 2 months.
After the Halloween holidays, the new school was ready and she was now able to go all day, although I picked her up at lunch time. Unfortunately for me, in their first year at maternelle the children are put into a dormitory for an afternoon nap. Being as Charlotte hadn’t had an afternoon nap since she was 18 months and she was now nearly 4 you can imagine my horror. I asked the headmistress if I could bring her back after the nap as this is what Becky had done with her little girl the previous year, but she said no. To say that Charlotte went to bed late was an understatement. She just wasn’t tired in the evening. She would sometimes not fall asleep until gone 11pm. The only reason why I still sent her in the afternoon was because I knew she would start speaking French quicker if she was there all day. So for 10 months I put up with Charlotte not going to bed until I did.
In January 2004 I started putting Charlotte into ‘cantine’ at school one day a week, that is to say that she had her lunch at school 1-day a week. She did not appreciate this (and still doesn’t) but it gave me a whole day to myself which meant I could do things without clock watching.
In Easter 2004, I met my first French friend. Charlotte’s temporary teacher was leaving and we held a little party for him. A woman approached me and asked me if I was Charlotte’s mother as her little girl Lea was always talking about her. Charlotte and I were then invited over one Saturday afternoon and Nathalie and I have been friends ever since. I have quite a few French friends now due to Charlotte having friends at school.
Up until children are 11 years old, they do not go to school on Wednesdays. In the old days they used to go on Saturday mornings but even this has now finished in some areas, including ours. This gives way for extra school activities. For Charlotte, when she become 4 in 2004 I enrolled her in dance class. She was always dancing in front of the television at home when music was on and she said she’d like to try. She was the youngest of her group but she loved it. At the end of the academic year they put on a show in the local cinema for all the moms and dads to see how hard the children have worked. I am so proud!
Charlotte has now (2008) started primary school, speaks French fluently, no longer has an afternoon nap (thank god) and so goes to bed at a reasonable hour and still does dance. She also does pottery on a Wednesday afternoon. She’s no angel but I absolutely adore her and I don’t know what I’d do without her.
I am blessed.
1999 - 2000 - Pregnancy and Charlotte
I had a very easy pregnancy. The day I found out I practically phoned everyone I knew. My father cried down the phone, my mother said ‘are you sure?’.
I was scared for the first twelve weeks, slight stomach pain and I swore I was losing the baby. I had very little nausea, no cravings, no tummy button sticking out, no line down my tummy, no nesting feeling. It was great. I was very lucky.
I was scanned every month. That’s just the way it’s done. I was also blood tested every month for excess protein, rubella and toxoplasmosis. At sixteen weeks the gyno informed us she could tell what the sex was. We decided we wanted to know and we found out we were having a girl. Before we found out we had problems conceiving I had always wanted a girl. At this point I just wanted a baby. Having said that I was still pleased it was a girl.
A month after telling Dawn I was pregnant she rang me and told me she was also pregnant, she was a month ahead of me. I asked her why she hadn’t told me before and she said she didn’t want to rain on my parade. Apparently her pregnancy was an accident and her first comment to her husband when she found out was ‘what am I going to tell Ailsa?’ She then prayed I got pregnant quick. Bless her, I love her to death.
Christmas 1999 was spent in France, I was too big to go anywhere. It felt very weird just the two of us and Hattie. For the new millennium we went to Monaco. We parked at Dom’s apartment and Dom, Linda, Louie, Bart, Michelle, Steve and I all walked down to the port of Monaco. Dom had thought he’d had a brilliant idea of parking his car earlier in the day in the centre of Monaco and then we could all drive back. This plan failed miserably as I think everyone in the vicinity had the same idea and there was a huge traffic jam. Having been on my feet so long I started to get twinges in my tummy. Steve and I decided to get out and walk back to the car. Linda was only too happy to let us out as she thought I might be going into labour and she didn’t want the baby born in the car!
On 7th January 2000 we went to see the gyno who would be delivering the baby. He remarked that I looked tired so suggested I be induced. We had an appointment on Monday 10th January to go into the hospital. I remember he said that if I was started off at 7am the baby would arrive before midday. I went home and told everyone this and most women just laughed and said that labour lasts a lot longer than five hours!
I went into hospital on the evening of 10th January. I gave birth at the Lenval hospital in Nice, the same hospital Angelina Jolie gave birth to her twins in. They woke me at 7am and I was induced at 8am. Steve arrived at 8.30. I actually saw him arriving as I had been put in a delivery room overlooking the Promenade des Anglais and the airport. At the beginning of my labour I just lay watching the planes coming and going. By 10am the pain was getting worse but not unbearable. Then the nurse came and told me that they had to break my waters but before that they had to shave my fanny. Steve found this quite amusing and watched her while she did it. After she’d broken my waters with what looked like a coat hanger I started to feel really funny. I was going to faint and I couldn’t lie down as I was already lying down! Steve called the midwife who tipped the bed right back for me. It worked.
By 11am the contractions were coming thick and fast and it was painful. I’m not one for suffering pain gladly so I asked for an epidural. I had been to see the anaesthetist a month beforehand who explained how it worked. I asked him would I receive the epidural when I asked for it as I had heard of cases where patients were kept waiting. He assured me that it would be administered within five minutes of me asking for it. I asked for the epidural at 11am and he arrived at 11.30am. I was not amused. Apparently there had been an emergency. Epidural is amazing. As soon as it was administered there was no more pain. However, as soon as it was administered the doctor arrived and they told me to start pushing! I only pushed for about ten minutes when she started crowning. The doctor was so enthusiastic he told Steve to come down his end and watch. Steve found it all fascinating. You have to stop pushing at this point and the doctor told me to stop pushing, I told him I wasn’t pushing. He told me again to stop pushing. I told him again that I wasn’t pushing. Once again he told me to stop pushing, this time the mid-wife told him I wasn’t pushing. This had all occurred because I was ripping so badly. Crowning was actually very painful. Having a head stuck in the opening of your vagina is not a pleasant experience. Eventually her head came out and I was told to push the rest of her out. She arrived at 11.50am on Tuesday January 11th 2000. I had been in labour for just under four hours and I had only pushed for 20 minutes. The doctor had said she would arrive before midday and she did.
Steve cut the cord. He was not squeamish about it all, just got on and did it. He then followed the mid-wife around while she was measured, weighed and vitals checked. Steve came back in beaming that she had just peed all over the midwife. While all that was being done, I had delivered the afterbirth and was being sewn up. When they were finished with her they put her nappy on, dressed her and then lay on me. We lay in the delivery room for two hours, she was asleep. Steve stayed for about an hour and then went home to either phone or email everyone the news.
We had already agreed that she would be called Charlotte, it was the only name we could agree on.
We were eventually taken upstairs to our room. We had a private room. This is 80% paid for by the social security and the rest is paid for by the complimentary insurance, depending on your contract with them. We had a room overlooking the Mediterranean, not bad. Charlotte was put into her cradle and the nurses helped me change. I was sore, I couldn’t even walk I was so sore. My phone in the room just rang off the hook. Eventually the nurses came in to tell me to try going to the toilet. Well I tried but it was so painful. They had already placed a mat on the bed, which was just getting soaked in blood. My list of things to bring gave sanitary towels as one of those things. I had, very naively, brought along just your average sanitary towel. The nurse nearly fell about laughing at this. I then phoned Steve and told him to go to the pharmacy and get me some heavy duty ones. They also kept trying to get me to start breast-feeding. However, Charlotte was having none of it and just wouldn’t latch on. She just kept going back to sleep.
That evening our first visitors arrived, Linda and Dom. Linda told me later that when they left, the first thing Linda said to Dom was ‘I’m sorry but that baby looks just like Steve’. The nurses came along later to ask me if I wanted to keep her with me that night or did I want them to take her to the night nursery. They actually recommended that I send her to the nursery so that I could get a good night’s sleep. I did just that. I actually felt quite refreshed Wednesday morning. I had a shower, washed my hair and then waited for them to bring her back. I actually got a bit worried as they didn’t bring her back till 9.30am . Having said that they brought her back washed and clean.
The Doctor came by to check that all was well with my stitches, which it was. Then he told me something I hadn’t realised. He said, ‘it’s your haemorrhoids which are causing you the most pain’. I had absolutely no idea I’d got piles. I was gobsmacked. Something else we had to put on the list for Steve to get from the pharmacy – pile cream. Lovely.
Later that morning Steve came by. He didn’t stay long, as he had to register the birth at the town hall in Nice. In France you are given three days to register a birth. It was also a bit boring for him hanging around the hospital. The nurses came by again to try and get me to breast-feed. Once again Charlotte was having none of it. They went away and whilst I had no audience I tried again and she latched first time. When the nurse came back, she was delighted and so was I. In the afternoon my local paediatrician came to do the usual checks. The only thing slightly wrong with Charlotte was that she had a slight mark above her right eye, which she said would disappear after about a year. She was right.
That evening the nurse came in to tell me that as I was breast feeding it would be best if I kept Charlotte overnight from now on. Steve was there and a friend. I didn’t hear anything they said as I just felt terrified. This was going to be first night with her on my own and I felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility and I just felt completely terrified. Everything turned out fine. After giving her a feed at 1am she slept until 7am. I felt quite pleased with myself. However this did not last.
Thursday morning and the nurses came to show me how to bathe Charlotte, clean the umbilical cord, squirt something up her nose and clean her eyes. It was also the day that Steve’s parents arrived. I had a funny feeling they would turn up whilst I was breast-feeding and they did. Whereas I didn’t mind breast-feeding in front of my parents, breast-feeding in front of my in-laws just felt too weird. Steve’s mother cried as soon as she saw her. We agreed they would come back in the afternoon and I just knew they would turn up whilst I was breast-feeding again – they did!
Friday morning I asked the Doctor if I could go home. I just wanted to get on with life at home. Get Steve involved more to the point. I was due to go home Saturday but I’d had enough. The nurses let me wash her myself, squirt and clean. They were then satisfied that I could leave in the afternoon. At lunchtime Linda arrived with Michelle and then at 4pm Steve came to take us home. Putting her into the car seat for the first time was interesting and then Steve drove at about 5 mph the rest of the way home. Steve’s parents arrived in the evening for about an hour. They went home the next day.
You don’t get health visitors in France the same way you do in England. I was given a phone number I could ring if I needed help but once out of the hospital no one comes to your house to check on you. We did have one scare on the following Sunday when we found blood in her nappy. I phoned just about everyone I could think of with children. It was Dawn who finally reassured me that this can happen when breast-feeding, some of the hormones pass over from mother to child. My next appointment with the paediatrician was on Tuesday – I had to go to her, she didn’t come to me – and she also said it was perfectly normal.
Steve went back to work on the Monday after I came out of hospital. Plus he was away all week. This didn’t bother me as he works away and I knew I would have to get used to it sooner or later. My mother came out three weeks after she was born for a week and for the last few days of her stay my father and my sister also came out. My father was evidently not very well. He would often go and lie down for a rest. My sister during her three-day stay was absolutely brilliant. She practically took over and I was quite happy for her do so.
After them, Steve’s sister came to stay for a few days from Australia. She was also very helpful, cooking meals, looking after Charlotte whilst I slept.
After four weeks of breast-feeding I decided to give it up. I had been expressing and I decided I wasn’t producing enough. When I expressed I would produce about 5ml. I also felt that she was constantly attached to my boobs, probably because she was so hungry because I wasn’t producing. Going onto the bottle was the best thing I did for her. She was so much happier. She wasn’t crying so much, she slept better. However I felt so guilty and I cried as I felt such a failure. Everyone says ‘breast is best’ and giving it up just made me feel like I’d failed her already. But then when I saw how much happier she was on the bottle I knew I’d made the right decision.
Steve was peeved with the decision as this now meant he had to do his share. Warming bottles, washing bottles and making up bottles. He especially hated getting up in the night to warm up bottles. He should have counted himself lucky he was only there at the weekend!
People say you’ve got no idea what’s coming when you have your first baby and it’s very true. I would also advise couples never to have a baby to bring them closer together as in fact it does completely the opposite! We used to have arguments as to who had had the least sleep!
When I was pregnant with Charlotte Steve joined a running club called the Hash House Harriers. They are known around the world as ‘people who like beer who have a running problem’. This was Steve’s social life in France and just because we’d had a baby didn’t mean he was giving it up. So every other Sunday he would go running with his friends. I didn’t really like him going being as he was always away during the week. I felt the least he could do was spend the weekend with his family. I remember one Sunday I told him to look after Charlotte whilst I spent some time on my own in the garden. Literally two minutes later he brought her outside to me and left her! I jumped up asking what he was doing and he said he was going upstairs to get ready to go running! Our compromise would be that he would come straight home after the run and not go to the restaurant after.
I had been planning to continue with my OU in February but I soon came to realise that this was not going to be feasible. I just was not going to have time to look after a new-born and do my studies. So I put it off for a year.
Life became a lot easier when she got to eleven weeks. This is when she started going through the night and sleeping in her own room. When she was three months old we took her to England for Easter. The plane trip was very easy, not a problem at all. In fact Charlotte has never been a problem on a plane. We’ve been to America three times, Australia once and countless flights to England and she’s never been a problem.
She was 11 months old for her first Christmas, obviously at that age she didn’t understand it and in fact on the day itself she was very ill, vomiting everything. It was our turn to spend Christmas with Steve’s parents who always spend Christmas with her sister and her family. I did not have a very good day as I spent most of it worried about Charlotte. The next day I went down with flu and when we got back to my mother’s house I spent the next three days in bed.
1998 1999 - Fertility Treatment
We arrived home from Australia 2nd September, would you believe the clinic rang me up the next day to tell me they could start treatment (funny it was right after the holidays eh?) and would I come in the next day so that they could go through everything with me. I was supposed to be starting my job that day so I had to ring Brian (who would be my boss) and ask him if he minded me popping out. The next day I started work. Linda started me off until it was time to go to the clinic. I sped down to the clinic, in fact I couldn’t get there fast enough.
It was decided that for the first month they would try without any drugs at all. Instead, around about the 11th day of my cycle they would check my vaginal mucus, which would give them an idea of when I was about to ovulate. My period was actually due very soon so he told me to ring the secretary when my period arrived and they would schedule an appointment for me to come in so they could check my mucus. This I did. I went back to the clinic three times for them to check my mucus. Eventually the day came for them to do the insemination. I was so excited. I kept thinking this might be it, I could be pregnant! I knew a girl who had undergone IVF, luckily she had fallen pregnant on the first try, her advice to me was to not think about it so much. She believed that focusing on something else had been the key to getting pregnant. I couldn’t do it. It was all I thought about. Needless to say that when my period arrived two weeks later I was so upset. I drove to work in tears. Everyone at work knew of my situation and that we were trying for a baby. They didn’t know the whole picture, just that we were trying. Just to make matters worse that day I could overhear Dom on the phone with one of the clients debating what name they were going to give their baby when it arrived. I felt like he was rubbing it in. Of course he wasn’t.
I phoned the Doctor a day later to inform him that my period had arrived. This time they were going to force my ovulation. This meant that on the 11th day of my cycle I would have to go to a different part of the clinic and have a blood test so that they could check my hormone levels. After this I was to go for a scan. This is where they insert this, what I can only describe looks like a dildo, up you. In the afternoon I had to ring for the results. The results either being, make another appointment in two days time to do the blood test and scan again or go to a nurse to have an injection of HCG (this forces ovulation) and make an appointment for the insemination. I had to go back and do it all over again before I was able to go to the nurse for my injection and hence the insemination which takes place after 36 hours of the injection but within 48 hours.
When my period arrived two weeks later I wasn’t quite as upset as I had been the previous month. Steve actually seemed more upset than I did. I phoned the clinic and we went through the whole rigmarole again; blood tests and scans until eventual insemination. Again, it failed. We were now at the beginning of December and funnily enough the Doctor decided to skip a month, you don’t think it was because the Christmas holidays were coming do you?
My sister in the meantime had another baby boy.
That Christmas I told Steve that it was about time that his parents knew what was going on. Steve said that he couldn’t be the one to tell them so I told him to go out whilst I told them. To say that she was upset would be an understatement. She kept saying that she wasn’t upset for herself but upset for us. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had been upset for herself. Steve was her child that was married and so she looked to us to give her grandchildren and now that wasn’t looking likely either.
1999 arrived. The first day of my period arrived and I phoned the clinic and off we went again. In the meantime the bosses in the office had decided that they wanted to change the computer system completely. At that time they worked on a DOS based telex system. It was archaic. They wanted to move onto Windows and more than that they wanted the whole office to be networked. Being as I was computer minded they asked me to oversee the task, get quotes from different firms etc etc. I was also being given more responsibility and because of this I stepped up my hours. I now worked four days a week with time off of course for going to the clinic. This fourth lot of treatment failed once again.
In February we started the fifth lot of treatment and I also re-started my OU. This year I had decided to give up law and go back to computers. I did ‘An Object Orientated Approach to Computers’. Because I was working during the week, this meant doing a lot of study in the evenings and a lot on the Friday that I didn’t work. The treatment failed again.
When I phoned the clinic in March to tell them my period had arrived, they called us in. This time they told us they were going to up the ante again. I would be given more drugs to stimulate my hormones. This is what I think goes along the same lines as IVF. From the third day of this cycle I had to go to the nurse every other day to be given a shot of drugs. The drugs were of the type that could produce multiple births, Steve was scared to death. He needn’t have been, it failed.
During this month Linda gave birth to very healthy little boy, named Louie. I was nothing but happy for them – honest. Linda had had a very difficult birth; she had to be given a general anaesthetic and then a caesarean. For the first few days after the birth she could barely move. On going to see them the day after she’d given birth she said ‘never again’, and she hasn't!
April saw the change over of computer system in the office. The new computers were installed side by side the old ones so that I could train the employees in Windows and in the new software. I had been given training first and then with dummy records we practised using the software until we went live. It meant I was spending a lot of time in the office, sometimes working until 8pm, then coming home and doing my studies. I was getting quite tired. On top of all this the doctor had forgotten to give me the prescription for the drugs I needed for our next treatment. It was decided then that we would do it as we had before with just the HCG injection.
The office went live. We switched from the old DOS system to the new Windows network system within an hour. It actually went quite well. A few teething problems maybe but nothing we couldn’t fix. On April 19th I had to go and have my HCG injection with the nurse. I left work at 4pm and got completely stuck in a traffic jam (the Monte Carlo open was on). I absolutely panicked that I wouldn’t get to the nurse in time. I did, with only a few minutes to spare. My insemination had been booked for 10am on 21st April. I went, I was inseminated and told to lie back for 20 minutes. I didn’t have time to wait. I lay for about two minutes. In this time I thought to myself that there was no way I was going to be pregnant this time round. If I couldn’t get pregnant when I was given all those drugs I certainly wasn’t going to be pregnant when they’d forgotten to give them to me. Besides I was needed at work. I got up and left. For the next two weeks I didn’t even think about being pregnant, I didn’t have the time to think about it. For the first time since treatment had begun I didn’t buy a pregnancy test, mainly as I didn’t believe for one minute I could be pregnant. It wasn’t until the Friday 7th May over two weeks since my insemination that I had time to stop and realise that my period was actually late. I went and bought a pregnancy test. I did it during the day, waiting for that line. It didn’t appear. I put the test down on the table and it wasn’t until an hour later I glanced at it with the sun shining behind it. There was a line there. It was faint but there was definitely a line. I went straight out and bought another test. It was positive! I couldn’t believe it. When Steve came home and I told him he said ‘congratulations’!
It was decided that for the first month they would try without any drugs at all. Instead, around about the 11th day of my cycle they would check my vaginal mucus, which would give them an idea of when I was about to ovulate. My period was actually due very soon so he told me to ring the secretary when my period arrived and they would schedule an appointment for me to come in so they could check my mucus. This I did. I went back to the clinic three times for them to check my mucus. Eventually the day came for them to do the insemination. I was so excited. I kept thinking this might be it, I could be pregnant! I knew a girl who had undergone IVF, luckily she had fallen pregnant on the first try, her advice to me was to not think about it so much. She believed that focusing on something else had been the key to getting pregnant. I couldn’t do it. It was all I thought about. Needless to say that when my period arrived two weeks later I was so upset. I drove to work in tears. Everyone at work knew of my situation and that we were trying for a baby. They didn’t know the whole picture, just that we were trying. Just to make matters worse that day I could overhear Dom on the phone with one of the clients debating what name they were going to give their baby when it arrived. I felt like he was rubbing it in. Of course he wasn’t.
I phoned the Doctor a day later to inform him that my period had arrived. This time they were going to force my ovulation. This meant that on the 11th day of my cycle I would have to go to a different part of the clinic and have a blood test so that they could check my hormone levels. After this I was to go for a scan. This is where they insert this, what I can only describe looks like a dildo, up you. In the afternoon I had to ring for the results. The results either being, make another appointment in two days time to do the blood test and scan again or go to a nurse to have an injection of HCG (this forces ovulation) and make an appointment for the insemination. I had to go back and do it all over again before I was able to go to the nurse for my injection and hence the insemination which takes place after 36 hours of the injection but within 48 hours.
When my period arrived two weeks later I wasn’t quite as upset as I had been the previous month. Steve actually seemed more upset than I did. I phoned the clinic and we went through the whole rigmarole again; blood tests and scans until eventual insemination. Again, it failed. We were now at the beginning of December and funnily enough the Doctor decided to skip a month, you don’t think it was because the Christmas holidays were coming do you?
My sister in the meantime had another baby boy.
That Christmas I told Steve that it was about time that his parents knew what was going on. Steve said that he couldn’t be the one to tell them so I told him to go out whilst I told them. To say that she was upset would be an understatement. She kept saying that she wasn’t upset for herself but upset for us. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had been upset for herself. Steve was her child that was married and so she looked to us to give her grandchildren and now that wasn’t looking likely either.
1999 arrived. The first day of my period arrived and I phoned the clinic and off we went again. In the meantime the bosses in the office had decided that they wanted to change the computer system completely. At that time they worked on a DOS based telex system. It was archaic. They wanted to move onto Windows and more than that they wanted the whole office to be networked. Being as I was computer minded they asked me to oversee the task, get quotes from different firms etc etc. I was also being given more responsibility and because of this I stepped up my hours. I now worked four days a week with time off of course for going to the clinic. This fourth lot of treatment failed once again.
In February we started the fifth lot of treatment and I also re-started my OU. This year I had decided to give up law and go back to computers. I did ‘An Object Orientated Approach to Computers’. Because I was working during the week, this meant doing a lot of study in the evenings and a lot on the Friday that I didn’t work. The treatment failed again.
When I phoned the clinic in March to tell them my period had arrived, they called us in. This time they told us they were going to up the ante again. I would be given more drugs to stimulate my hormones. This is what I think goes along the same lines as IVF. From the third day of this cycle I had to go to the nurse every other day to be given a shot of drugs. The drugs were of the type that could produce multiple births, Steve was scared to death. He needn’t have been, it failed.
During this month Linda gave birth to very healthy little boy, named Louie. I was nothing but happy for them – honest. Linda had had a very difficult birth; she had to be given a general anaesthetic and then a caesarean. For the first few days after the birth she could barely move. On going to see them the day after she’d given birth she said ‘never again’, and she hasn't!
April saw the change over of computer system in the office. The new computers were installed side by side the old ones so that I could train the employees in Windows and in the new software. I had been given training first and then with dummy records we practised using the software until we went live. It meant I was spending a lot of time in the office, sometimes working until 8pm, then coming home and doing my studies. I was getting quite tired. On top of all this the doctor had forgotten to give me the prescription for the drugs I needed for our next treatment. It was decided then that we would do it as we had before with just the HCG injection.
The office went live. We switched from the old DOS system to the new Windows network system within an hour. It actually went quite well. A few teething problems maybe but nothing we couldn’t fix. On April 19th I had to go and have my HCG injection with the nurse. I left work at 4pm and got completely stuck in a traffic jam (the Monte Carlo open was on). I absolutely panicked that I wouldn’t get to the nurse in time. I did, with only a few minutes to spare. My insemination had been booked for 10am on 21st April. I went, I was inseminated and told to lie back for 20 minutes. I didn’t have time to wait. I lay for about two minutes. In this time I thought to myself that there was no way I was going to be pregnant this time round. If I couldn’t get pregnant when I was given all those drugs I certainly wasn’t going to be pregnant when they’d forgotten to give them to me. Besides I was needed at work. I got up and left. For the next two weeks I didn’t even think about being pregnant, I didn’t have the time to think about it. For the first time since treatment had begun I didn’t buy a pregnancy test, mainly as I didn’t believe for one minute I could be pregnant. It wasn’t until the Friday 7th May over two weeks since my insemination that I had time to stop and realise that my period was actually late. I went and bought a pregnancy test. I did it during the day, waiting for that line. It didn’t appear. I put the test down on the table and it wasn’t until an hour later I glanced at it with the sun shining behind it. There was a line there. It was faint but there was definitely a line. I went straight out and bought another test. It was positive! I couldn’t believe it. When Steve came home and I told him he said ‘congratulations’!
1997 - 1998 Back To France
We moved our things from the studio in Monaco to the house in St Laurent du Var at the beginning of August. We hadn’t had much in the studio, just a few kitchen things and a bed settee. We couldn’t move our things from Genoa just yet as Steve was still using the flat there on the occasions that he was still working there. There were no real problems with the house in fact the only major work we did was to replace the sink in the bathroom with another sink with cupboard and a huge mirror.
September 1997 actually came around quite quickly and Steve went off for his appointment at the hospital on his own as our new bathroom was arriving the same day. Steve had to do another sperm test, just to confirm the original results and he had to have blood tests. Our next appointment was in November so that they could give us the results and explain our options.
I passed my OU exams in the October, I did better with programming than I did with databases. Just after taking my exams my parents came over to see me. The house didn’t have much so my parents took the double bed and I slept on the bed settee downstairs. Steve wasn’t there as he was working in Italy that week. As my parents had never been to Italy before I took them over there to see the flat there and of course Steve. When we got into the flat I realised I had left some shopping in the car and started to go back down to get it. Living in a flat, which was quite secure, I was used to leaving the flat keys in the flat and leaving the front door open if I was just popping outside. My mother not being used to this automatically shut the door behind her, I remember shouting ‘no I haven’t got the keys’. The only thing I did have was the car key. I then went to the concierge and asked him in my very bad Italian if he had a spare key, he didn’t and proceeded to talk about calling the fire brigade. I told him that I needed to contact my husband and he very kindly let me use his phone. I got his secretary Paula who informed me that Steve was in a meeting. I told her what had happened and that I was locked out of the flat and needed his keys and she basically implied ‘well what do you want me to do about it?’ I asked her to get him out of the meeting, NOW. We agreed that I would go over to his office to pick up the keys. It wasn’t until I got in the car that I realised my handbag was in the flat and so didn’t have any money for the motorway tolls. Luckily my father had his credit card and we were able to dash into the village before it shut at midday and get some money. We got to his office and his receptionist was waiting for me with the keys. My main worry about leaving the keys in the flat had been leaving Hattie in the flat. Hattie was my baby and it distressed me that I had left her there on her own for three hours.
Steve and I went for our appointment at the hospital where the professor in charge of our case explained to us our options. He told us we had three options, we could remain childless, adopt or attempt to have a child using uterine insemination. He told us to think about it and made another appointment for us in the December. I am sure Steve would have gone with the option of remaining childless had I not wanted a baby so desperately. I had been very open with my friends and family and most knew our situation. I knew how I felt. He knew how desperate I was and so when we went back to the hospital we filled in the form to go down the road of uterine insemination. The doctor then informed us that we had to have a six month reflection period and in that time we both had to have blood tests, to check blood groups, HIV, hepatitis, hormone levels and a whole range of other things. I also had to have my fallopian tubes checked out. I went along to the hospital in December for my blood test one-day and my tube check the next day.
I was very naïve when it came to what would be done with my tubal x-ray. I had been told to go the pharmacy beforehand to get some liquid, which they had to inject into my tubes. In my naivety I thought that the liquid was injected through my stomach. It wasn’t until I was on the table with my legs bent that I realised they were injecting it through my nether regions and the equipment they used to take the x-ray pictures was also inserted the same way. It was incredibly painful. I had never known pain like it. After it was over, the nurse informed me that I could get dressed again. Obviously as soon as I stood up the liquid that had been injected into me all started to just flood out onto the floor. I also started to feel very faint. The nurse was really good. I told her I didn’t feel well and felt I was going to faint and she got me some water. I managed to get dressed but I couldn’t move. I knew if I got up I would faint. I sat there desperately trying to bend over but the nurse kept pushing me back saying I would be okay. In the end they had to find a bed for me, as I just couldn’t move. I stayed on the bed for about an hour before I felt I was able to go home. On leaving, they gave me my x-rays and informed that my tubes were fine.
By Christmas 1997 we had moved all of our things over from Genoa so we decided that Christmas would be spent in France, we’d never done it before so we invited Steve’s parents to spend it with us and for the first time ever I cooked Christmas dinner. I don’t know if Steve’s mother had an inkling that something was wrong with our fertility but she would drop it into the conversation sometimes about her lack of grandchildren and that if we didn’t get a move on she would be dead by the time we gave her any. Steve’s answer to this was ‘you are assuming that everyone can have children’. She never mentioned it again.
In February 1998 I restarted my OU studies once again. This year I decided to take law. The OU had never offered it before and this was their first year. When I had worked at the Magistrates’ Courts I had been quite fascinated with the law and Dawn and I found ourselves becoming quite clued up on it. A couple of times Dawn and I had to go back to the court clerks and remind that a decision that had been made was actually illegal. However, of course this was criminal law and just a tiny aspect in the broad scale of law. While I was studying law that year it incorporated other aspects of law including corporate law, business law, EU law etc etc, most of which went straight over my head and quite honestly bored me to death. I didn’t do all that well in the assignments but I have to say when it came to exam I thought I’d done quite well. I didn’t. I scraped a pass. Needless to say I never did law again.
By March we were half way through our six months of reflection. We had had our blood tests to check we weren’t HIV positive, hepatitis positive and both of us had passed and we were now waiting to go before a solicitor to sign all the legal documents and see a counsellor. I spoke to my sister on the phone regularly and by this time she had already got two children herself, two boys, one aged 2 ½ and the other 1 ½. Quite nonchalently I asked her if she’d have anymore, her response was ‘well actually …. I’m pregnant’. To say that I was gutted was an understatement. After a very long pregnant (no pun intended) pause, I burst out crying. It seemed so unfair that she could get pregnant so easily and I couldn’t get pregnant at all. You hear of people in the same position of me saying ‘of course I was still happy for them’. I’m sorry but that’s rubbish, it’s just the politically polite thing to say. I felt cheated. Obviously I got over it and eventually I was happy for them.
Also in March of that year, our friends Dominic and Linda got married. I asked her a few days later if this meant they’d started trying for a baby now. Her answer was a categoric no and she was waiting for her sister-in-law to have a baby first so she could practice. The reason I had asked her was because I wanted to brace myself. Two months later I was talking to her mother-in-law (Michelle) on the phone and I dropped it in that she’d probably become a granny soon, to which she replied ‘oh you know already’. I knew what this meant, she was pregnant. I had found it strange that she hadn’t rang me for a while and now I knew why, she didn’t have the heart to tell me. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t believe for one minute that people should have put their lives on hold for me but it was still devastating. I couldn’t bring myself to phone Linda for two weeks until I had got used to the idea. I did eventually phone her and the first thing she said was ‘I’ve got something to tell you’.
In April we went to see the counsellor. I had no idea what to expect. But I have to say it was very interesting. Most of the session was really finding out if we were axe murderers.
In May, we had our appointment with the solicitor. This seemed to be all about verifying our age, how long we had been married and basically given consent to using uterine insemination in order to have a child.
At the beginning of June, our six months reflection was up and I marched down to the clinic with all the papers in my hand, handed them over and basically said ‘when do we start?’ You can imagine my horror when the secretary told me that we would have to wait. I was so disappointed. France shuts down in August. Practically everyone goes on holiday in August and that includes I suspect the fertility clinic. I’m not saying they shut down completely but I suspect that only skeleton staff is on and they try and limit the couples they are treating that month. As I had been to them in June I’m sure their thought was not to bother trying yet as it was too close to the holidays.
Linda was working with her husband, the company I had worked at for two weeks previously. Linda at that time was three months pregnant and decided to leave so her father-in-law offered me the position. It was a part time position doing a bit of accounting. I couldn’t start straight away as we were holidaying in Australia in August so the plan was that I would start at the beginning of September.
Australia was great. We went there because Steve’s sister Katherine had moved out there with her Aussie boyfriend. She lived in Perth so we went there first. I loved it. The second week we spent in Sydney. We hired a car and went off to the blue mountains for a couple of days. A very good holiday.
September 1997 actually came around quite quickly and Steve went off for his appointment at the hospital on his own as our new bathroom was arriving the same day. Steve had to do another sperm test, just to confirm the original results and he had to have blood tests. Our next appointment was in November so that they could give us the results and explain our options.
I passed my OU exams in the October, I did better with programming than I did with databases. Just after taking my exams my parents came over to see me. The house didn’t have much so my parents took the double bed and I slept on the bed settee downstairs. Steve wasn’t there as he was working in Italy that week. As my parents had never been to Italy before I took them over there to see the flat there and of course Steve. When we got into the flat I realised I had left some shopping in the car and started to go back down to get it. Living in a flat, which was quite secure, I was used to leaving the flat keys in the flat and leaving the front door open if I was just popping outside. My mother not being used to this automatically shut the door behind her, I remember shouting ‘no I haven’t got the keys’. The only thing I did have was the car key. I then went to the concierge and asked him in my very bad Italian if he had a spare key, he didn’t and proceeded to talk about calling the fire brigade. I told him that I needed to contact my husband and he very kindly let me use his phone. I got his secretary Paula who informed me that Steve was in a meeting. I told her what had happened and that I was locked out of the flat and needed his keys and she basically implied ‘well what do you want me to do about it?’ I asked her to get him out of the meeting, NOW. We agreed that I would go over to his office to pick up the keys. It wasn’t until I got in the car that I realised my handbag was in the flat and so didn’t have any money for the motorway tolls. Luckily my father had his credit card and we were able to dash into the village before it shut at midday and get some money. We got to his office and his receptionist was waiting for me with the keys. My main worry about leaving the keys in the flat had been leaving Hattie in the flat. Hattie was my baby and it distressed me that I had left her there on her own for three hours.
Steve and I went for our appointment at the hospital where the professor in charge of our case explained to us our options. He told us we had three options, we could remain childless, adopt or attempt to have a child using uterine insemination. He told us to think about it and made another appointment for us in the December. I am sure Steve would have gone with the option of remaining childless had I not wanted a baby so desperately. I had been very open with my friends and family and most knew our situation. I knew how I felt. He knew how desperate I was and so when we went back to the hospital we filled in the form to go down the road of uterine insemination. The doctor then informed us that we had to have a six month reflection period and in that time we both had to have blood tests, to check blood groups, HIV, hepatitis, hormone levels and a whole range of other things. I also had to have my fallopian tubes checked out. I went along to the hospital in December for my blood test one-day and my tube check the next day.
I was very naïve when it came to what would be done with my tubal x-ray. I had been told to go the pharmacy beforehand to get some liquid, which they had to inject into my tubes. In my naivety I thought that the liquid was injected through my stomach. It wasn’t until I was on the table with my legs bent that I realised they were injecting it through my nether regions and the equipment they used to take the x-ray pictures was also inserted the same way. It was incredibly painful. I had never known pain like it. After it was over, the nurse informed me that I could get dressed again. Obviously as soon as I stood up the liquid that had been injected into me all started to just flood out onto the floor. I also started to feel very faint. The nurse was really good. I told her I didn’t feel well and felt I was going to faint and she got me some water. I managed to get dressed but I couldn’t move. I knew if I got up I would faint. I sat there desperately trying to bend over but the nurse kept pushing me back saying I would be okay. In the end they had to find a bed for me, as I just couldn’t move. I stayed on the bed for about an hour before I felt I was able to go home. On leaving, they gave me my x-rays and informed that my tubes were fine.
By Christmas 1997 we had moved all of our things over from Genoa so we decided that Christmas would be spent in France, we’d never done it before so we invited Steve’s parents to spend it with us and for the first time ever I cooked Christmas dinner. I don’t know if Steve’s mother had an inkling that something was wrong with our fertility but she would drop it into the conversation sometimes about her lack of grandchildren and that if we didn’t get a move on she would be dead by the time we gave her any. Steve’s answer to this was ‘you are assuming that everyone can have children’. She never mentioned it again.
In February 1998 I restarted my OU studies once again. This year I decided to take law. The OU had never offered it before and this was their first year. When I had worked at the Magistrates’ Courts I had been quite fascinated with the law and Dawn and I found ourselves becoming quite clued up on it. A couple of times Dawn and I had to go back to the court clerks and remind that a decision that had been made was actually illegal. However, of course this was criminal law and just a tiny aspect in the broad scale of law. While I was studying law that year it incorporated other aspects of law including corporate law, business law, EU law etc etc, most of which went straight over my head and quite honestly bored me to death. I didn’t do all that well in the assignments but I have to say when it came to exam I thought I’d done quite well. I didn’t. I scraped a pass. Needless to say I never did law again.
By March we were half way through our six months of reflection. We had had our blood tests to check we weren’t HIV positive, hepatitis positive and both of us had passed and we were now waiting to go before a solicitor to sign all the legal documents and see a counsellor. I spoke to my sister on the phone regularly and by this time she had already got two children herself, two boys, one aged 2 ½ and the other 1 ½. Quite nonchalently I asked her if she’d have anymore, her response was ‘well actually …. I’m pregnant’. To say that I was gutted was an understatement. After a very long pregnant (no pun intended) pause, I burst out crying. It seemed so unfair that she could get pregnant so easily and I couldn’t get pregnant at all. You hear of people in the same position of me saying ‘of course I was still happy for them’. I’m sorry but that’s rubbish, it’s just the politically polite thing to say. I felt cheated. Obviously I got over it and eventually I was happy for them.
Also in March of that year, our friends Dominic and Linda got married. I asked her a few days later if this meant they’d started trying for a baby now. Her answer was a categoric no and she was waiting for her sister-in-law to have a baby first so she could practice. The reason I had asked her was because I wanted to brace myself. Two months later I was talking to her mother-in-law (Michelle) on the phone and I dropped it in that she’d probably become a granny soon, to which she replied ‘oh you know already’. I knew what this meant, she was pregnant. I had found it strange that she hadn’t rang me for a while and now I knew why, she didn’t have the heart to tell me. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t believe for one minute that people should have put their lives on hold for me but it was still devastating. I couldn’t bring myself to phone Linda for two weeks until I had got used to the idea. I did eventually phone her and the first thing she said was ‘I’ve got something to tell you’.
In April we went to see the counsellor. I had no idea what to expect. But I have to say it was very interesting. Most of the session was really finding out if we were axe murderers.
In May, we had our appointment with the solicitor. This seemed to be all about verifying our age, how long we had been married and basically given consent to using uterine insemination in order to have a child.
At the beginning of June, our six months reflection was up and I marched down to the clinic with all the papers in my hand, handed them over and basically said ‘when do we start?’ You can imagine my horror when the secretary told me that we would have to wait. I was so disappointed. France shuts down in August. Practically everyone goes on holiday in August and that includes I suspect the fertility clinic. I’m not saying they shut down completely but I suspect that only skeleton staff is on and they try and limit the couples they are treating that month. As I had been to them in June I’m sure their thought was not to bother trying yet as it was too close to the holidays.
Linda was working with her husband, the company I had worked at for two weeks previously. Linda at that time was three months pregnant and decided to leave so her father-in-law offered me the position. It was a part time position doing a bit of accounting. I couldn’t start straight away as we were holidaying in Australia in August so the plan was that I would start at the beginning of September.
Australia was great. We went there because Steve’s sister Katherine had moved out there with her Aussie boyfriend. She lived in Perth so we went there first. I loved it. The second week we spent in Sydney. We hired a car and went off to the blue mountains for a couple of days. A very good holiday.
1997 - Genoa
We moved into Genoa as soon as we came back from England after Christmas and New Year in 1997. We bought a satellite system whilst we were in England and brought it back down with us so that we could watch English television.
The apartment was in a little village called Nervi. It was a really nice village, it had a huge park where I took Hattie daily. The down side was that Nervi was like England in the old days. There were no major supermarkets, all the shopping had to be done in the small shops, that meant in and out of all the shops. Another thing was that they shut down between midday and 4 o’clock, it was really frustrating.
The apartment itself was quite strange. It had obviously once been used with one section being for the main family and another small section for the servants! There were two front doors, one straight from the lift, which entered straight into the hallway, and another from the stairs straight into the kitchen. There were two bathrooms, one quite posh between the two main bedrooms and the other next to the kitchen, which also held the washing machine.
Our first day there and it became quite evident that the oven didn’t work. This meant going into the village sharpish and buying a microwave. Neither of us spoke Italian although Steve knew a bit and he also had the confidence to go in and ask for things.
Once again, being in an apartment meant having to take Hattie out every morning and night to relieve herself. Hattie being a dog wasn’t too fussy about where she did it and would relieve herself as soon as she got outside. This didn’t go down too well with one of our neighbours who had a go at us for allowing her to do it. We have absolutely no idea what she said but it was kind of obvious what she was getting at. From then on we always took Hattie round the back of the flats where no one could see her. We would then walk down to the road with her to allow her to do anything else, if she happened to pooh on the way down to the road then we would have a bag handy to pick it up and throw it away.
I started Italian lessons. I made the mistake of thinking that Italian was similar to French. In some ways it is but it’s a lot harder – I think. The Italians were really nice. If someone stopped me to ask me something and I didn’t understand, I would say ‘non parlo italiano’. They were so nice. Most of them apologised and then spoke in English, they were so sweet. Not like the French, if you told the French you didn’t speak French they’d scowl at you and look at you as if to say ‘well what are you doing in this country then?’. This is not to knock the French, as I’m sure the English do it in England as well.
The good thing about living in Genoa was having Portofino next door. Steve’s boss was very well connected there and took us down there a couple of times. A very nice place. Also in Portofino is a large walking area. Most Sundays we would take the dog down there and walk for about three hours. I decided I would do this during the week as well so one morning I gathered up Hattie and off we went. I never did it again without Steve as on my walk around the forest I spotted wild pigs below me. They frightened the life out of me. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had been on my own but Hattie kept trying to get down to them and I was frightened to death they’d spot her and come have her for breakfast!
Not being used to not having major supermarkets nearby, every Saturday we’d go back to Monaco and do our weekly shopping in Carrefour there. It’s amazing what you get used to and how far you’ll go to get it back!
After a couple of months in Genoa we sold the Barchetta. It was plainly obvious that we didn’t need two cars. Broke his heart to do it but we did sell it to someone who absolutely fell in love with it.
Not long after moving to Genoa it became apparent that I wasn’t getting pregnant. We started to try harder. I would buy ovulation kits. I started to use the Internet on how you could get pregnant quicker. Suddenly lovemaking became more of a chore than a pleasure. Even Steve started to think so. I started to obsess about it. I would work out which three days I was most likely to be ovulating and I would haul him off to bed. You’d think most men would have loved the idea of all that sex but even Steve got to the point of saying ‘not again’!
Steve’s new job meant him being away from home more and of course this meant me being on my own more. Genoa isn’t like the Côte d’Azur. The Côte d’Azur has a lot of ex-patriots in it and it’s easy to find your own people there and make friends – like I had done. Genoa wasn’t the same. I didn’t like it. I could barely speak the language, I didn’t know anyone and I was on my own a lot. I had started my next year of OU this time doing two 30 point courses in databases and programming so this kept me busy and although I wouldn’t say I was lonely I certainly wasn’t happy. I didn’t complain but Steve could obviously see how things were and so suggested that we rent a studio in Monaco. I jumped at the chance. The company were paying for the rent in Italy and we had both sold our houses in England so we could just afford a tiny studio to rent in Monaco and that’s exactly what it was, a tiny studio. I started to spend most of my time back in Monaco so Steve suggested we buy a house in France.
In June 1997 we started looking at houses in France. We saw quite a few in one day but we ended up agreeing on the same one. It was a three bed-roomed house in St Laurent du Var, next door to Nice, very close to the airport and just a two-hour drive from Genoa. We put the offer in on the day we looked at it and the owner accepted – I was on my way back to France, I had friends and I could speak the language.
It was June and I still wasn’t pregnant. I was convinced there was something wrong with me. I remember speaking to my sister on the phone about it as she said ‘well you want to hope it is you as they can do more for a woman than they can for the man’. I assured her that I was quite confident that the problem would be with me. My mother had had trouble conceiving as well. It had taken my parents four years to conceive my brother. It turned out my mother had a cyst on one of her ovaries which had had to be removed and even then the doctors told her that it was unlikely she would ever conceive. My parents put themselves down on the adoption register when they conceived my brother. They went on to have four more children! One unfortunately was stillborn.
Before the sale of the house went through we went for a walk with Hattie, Steve twisted his ankle to the point that he could barely walk on it. It was obvious he should go and see a doctor so whilst I looked after Hattie he went to see his usual doctor in Monaco. We agreed that whilst he was there he would mention the fact that it had nearly now been a year of us trying for a baby.
We were tested. I don’t remember how long after we got the results but the upshot was we couldn't have children naturally. All I remember is that I was in Italy. I remember looking out of the window trying to figure out what it all meant. It hit me the next day. Dawn rang me and she could sense something was wrong so of course when she asked me what was wrong, I just cried and cried to the point that she started crying too. She had just recently had another baby and of course didn’t know what to say. I remember ending our conversation telling her never to take her children for granted.
The day that we signed for the house – July 17th, we went back to the doctor in Monaco to see where we went from here. The doctor’s first comment was ‘well at least you don’t have to worry about contraception anymore’. I wanted to slap him. I would rather be able to have my own children and use contraception than not be able to have them and not worry about it. The nearest specialist was in Nice so he made an appointment for us to see him, unfortunately this wasn’t until September, it felt like a lifetime away and in the meantime we moved back to France.
The apartment was in a little village called Nervi. It was a really nice village, it had a huge park where I took Hattie daily. The down side was that Nervi was like England in the old days. There were no major supermarkets, all the shopping had to be done in the small shops, that meant in and out of all the shops. Another thing was that they shut down between midday and 4 o’clock, it was really frustrating.
The apartment itself was quite strange. It had obviously once been used with one section being for the main family and another small section for the servants! There were two front doors, one straight from the lift, which entered straight into the hallway, and another from the stairs straight into the kitchen. There were two bathrooms, one quite posh between the two main bedrooms and the other next to the kitchen, which also held the washing machine.
Our first day there and it became quite evident that the oven didn’t work. This meant going into the village sharpish and buying a microwave. Neither of us spoke Italian although Steve knew a bit and he also had the confidence to go in and ask for things.
Once again, being in an apartment meant having to take Hattie out every morning and night to relieve herself. Hattie being a dog wasn’t too fussy about where she did it and would relieve herself as soon as she got outside. This didn’t go down too well with one of our neighbours who had a go at us for allowing her to do it. We have absolutely no idea what she said but it was kind of obvious what she was getting at. From then on we always took Hattie round the back of the flats where no one could see her. We would then walk down to the road with her to allow her to do anything else, if she happened to pooh on the way down to the road then we would have a bag handy to pick it up and throw it away.
I started Italian lessons. I made the mistake of thinking that Italian was similar to French. In some ways it is but it’s a lot harder – I think. The Italians were really nice. If someone stopped me to ask me something and I didn’t understand, I would say ‘non parlo italiano’. They were so nice. Most of them apologised and then spoke in English, they were so sweet. Not like the French, if you told the French you didn’t speak French they’d scowl at you and look at you as if to say ‘well what are you doing in this country then?’. This is not to knock the French, as I’m sure the English do it in England as well.
The good thing about living in Genoa was having Portofino next door. Steve’s boss was very well connected there and took us down there a couple of times. A very nice place. Also in Portofino is a large walking area. Most Sundays we would take the dog down there and walk for about three hours. I decided I would do this during the week as well so one morning I gathered up Hattie and off we went. I never did it again without Steve as on my walk around the forest I spotted wild pigs below me. They frightened the life out of me. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had been on my own but Hattie kept trying to get down to them and I was frightened to death they’d spot her and come have her for breakfast!
Not being used to not having major supermarkets nearby, every Saturday we’d go back to Monaco and do our weekly shopping in Carrefour there. It’s amazing what you get used to and how far you’ll go to get it back!
After a couple of months in Genoa we sold the Barchetta. It was plainly obvious that we didn’t need two cars. Broke his heart to do it but we did sell it to someone who absolutely fell in love with it.
Not long after moving to Genoa it became apparent that I wasn’t getting pregnant. We started to try harder. I would buy ovulation kits. I started to use the Internet on how you could get pregnant quicker. Suddenly lovemaking became more of a chore than a pleasure. Even Steve started to think so. I started to obsess about it. I would work out which three days I was most likely to be ovulating and I would haul him off to bed. You’d think most men would have loved the idea of all that sex but even Steve got to the point of saying ‘not again’!
Steve’s new job meant him being away from home more and of course this meant me being on my own more. Genoa isn’t like the Côte d’Azur. The Côte d’Azur has a lot of ex-patriots in it and it’s easy to find your own people there and make friends – like I had done. Genoa wasn’t the same. I didn’t like it. I could barely speak the language, I didn’t know anyone and I was on my own a lot. I had started my next year of OU this time doing two 30 point courses in databases and programming so this kept me busy and although I wouldn’t say I was lonely I certainly wasn’t happy. I didn’t complain but Steve could obviously see how things were and so suggested that we rent a studio in Monaco. I jumped at the chance. The company were paying for the rent in Italy and we had both sold our houses in England so we could just afford a tiny studio to rent in Monaco and that’s exactly what it was, a tiny studio. I started to spend most of my time back in Monaco so Steve suggested we buy a house in France.
In June 1997 we started looking at houses in France. We saw quite a few in one day but we ended up agreeing on the same one. It was a three bed-roomed house in St Laurent du Var, next door to Nice, very close to the airport and just a two-hour drive from Genoa. We put the offer in on the day we looked at it and the owner accepted – I was on my way back to France, I had friends and I could speak the language.
It was June and I still wasn’t pregnant. I was convinced there was something wrong with me. I remember speaking to my sister on the phone about it as she said ‘well you want to hope it is you as they can do more for a woman than they can for the man’. I assured her that I was quite confident that the problem would be with me. My mother had had trouble conceiving as well. It had taken my parents four years to conceive my brother. It turned out my mother had a cyst on one of her ovaries which had had to be removed and even then the doctors told her that it was unlikely she would ever conceive. My parents put themselves down on the adoption register when they conceived my brother. They went on to have four more children! One unfortunately was stillborn.
Before the sale of the house went through we went for a walk with Hattie, Steve twisted his ankle to the point that he could barely walk on it. It was obvious he should go and see a doctor so whilst I looked after Hattie he went to see his usual doctor in Monaco. We agreed that whilst he was there he would mention the fact that it had nearly now been a year of us trying for a baby.
We were tested. I don’t remember how long after we got the results but the upshot was we couldn't have children naturally. All I remember is that I was in Italy. I remember looking out of the window trying to figure out what it all meant. It hit me the next day. Dawn rang me and she could sense something was wrong so of course when she asked me what was wrong, I just cried and cried to the point that she started crying too. She had just recently had another baby and of course didn’t know what to say. I remember ending our conversation telling her never to take her children for granted.
The day that we signed for the house – July 17th, we went back to the doctor in Monaco to see where we went from here. The doctor’s first comment was ‘well at least you don’t have to worry about contraception anymore’. I wanted to slap him. I would rather be able to have my own children and use contraception than not be able to have them and not worry about it. The nearest specialist was in Nice so he made an appointment for us to see him, unfortunately this wasn’t until September, it felt like a lifetime away and in the meantime we moved back to France.
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