Karen Denham, 43, shares her real life story
Everywhere I looked, I saw them – on buses, in shops and along the aisles in the local supermarket.
It seemed like I couldn’t walk down the street without seeing flocks of mums pushing prams and cute babies smiling up at me.
It should have made me happy, but it didn’t.
Instead, I would go home to my husband Jack and say: ‘Do you think it will ever happen for us?’
We had been trying for a baby without success, and I was finding every month harder than the last.
There was an added pressure, too.
Jack was 28, but I was 37. Most of my pals already had kids, but my biological clock was ticking away.
My mum and dad, Frances and Brian, knew about our struggle and were very supportive.
I was grateful, but after two years of trying, I still wasn’t pregnant.
It seemed like I couldn’t walk down the street without seeing flocks of mums pushing prams and cute babies smiling up at me.
Jack and I went to the doctor for some tests. They showed his sperm was fine, but that my hormone levels were low.
‘IVF would be a good option,’ the doctor advised.
By now I was 39, so I was getting desperate.
We started IVF, and I injected myself with a hormone every day to increase the number of eggs my ovaries produced.
Two weeks later, my eggs were collected and mixed with Jack’s sperm. But when we returned to the clinic, there was bad news waiting for us.
‘I’m sorry,’ the doctor said. ‘They haven’t fertilised.’
I looked at Jack, tears welling up in my eyes.
‘Maybe it wasn’t meant to be,’ he said gently.
Back home, I couldn’t hide my disappointment. There was no way we could afford to pay for another round of IVF.
It seemed our dream was over.
‘Maybe it wasn’t meant to be,’ he said gently.
Then we were dealt yet another hammer blow.
Dad had been suffering from severe pain in his neck and scans showed a tumour caused it.
It was non-cancerous, but he was in great pain.
He’d been a dentist for many years, and his doctors believed the time he had spent straining and leaning over the dental chair might have contributed to the growth of the tumour.
In time, he had a vertebra removed from his spinal column, but the tumour continued to grow.
The pain got so bad that Dad couldn’t turn his neck and ended up having to wear a brace.
We were all heartbroken and missed him so very much.
In the end, there was simply nothing more the doctors could do for him.
Dad stayed in the hospital as his health deteriorated.
Then, at the age of 65, he finally lost his fight. We were all heartbroken and missed him so very much.
He had been willing me to have a baby, and it filled me with so much sadness that it hadn’t happened.
As I grieved for Dad, I spent as much time as I could with Mum.
As I grieved for Dad, I spent as much time as I could with Mum.
One day, as we were talking, she said, ‘I’ve been thinking. I want to give you the money for another course of IVF.’
My mouth fell open.
‘What?’ I said.
‘It’s your dad’s money,’ she said. ‘It’s what he would have wanted.’
I was hesitant, but we talked it over, and I realised she was right.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said.
Jack and I were overwhelmed and thrilled to accept Dad’s money as a parting gift.
A year after we lost him, we returned to the clinic to try again.
I was 40, and we knew time was running out.
But thankfully, when doctors collected my eggs and mixed them with Jack’s sperm, it worked.
Four embryos were produced.
To increase my chances of falling pregnant, I had two implanted.
Then all we could do was wait.
About two weeks later, I pulled a pregnancy test from its box and said to Jack, ‘It’s time.’
I did the test, and afterwards, we stared at the stick, willing two blue lines to appear.
One showed straight away, and then beside it I spotted a second, very faint line.
I squinted at it.
‘What does that mean?’ Jack said.
‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘But I think I might be pregnant.’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘But I think I might be pregnant.’
I phoned the hospital and was told to wait another fortnight, then do another test.
It was by far the longest two weeks of my life.
Finally, the day arrived and this time I let out a cry.
‘Jack!’ I shouted.
He rushed over to find me gazing at a pregnancy test.
In the little window were two unmistakable, thick blue lines.
My voice trembled as I said, ‘We’re going to have a baby.’
Jack laughed and threw his arms around me.
Neither of us could believe it was actually happening.
At seven and a half weeks pregnant, I went to the hospital for my first scan.
Jack was away with work, but I planned to phone him as soon as I possibly could.
The sonographer swept the fancy scanner over my tummy and moved the screen so I could see.
Neither of us could believe it was actually happening.
‘There it is,’ she said.
I looked at the grainy image and saw a little white blob.
My little white blob, I thought.
‘I’ll just check that everything else looks OK,’ the sonographer told me.
She continued to move the scanner around, then said, ‘Oh!’
‘What?’ I asked, panicking.
‘Here’s another one!’ she replied.
My eyes widened as I realised what that meant.
‘Oh my…’ I said.
After the scan, I rang Jack at once.
‘You won’t believe this,’ I said. ‘We’re having twins!’
The line went very quiet, then he said, ‘Bloody hell!’
It took us a while to get over the shock, but we soon felt excited.
The twins were non-identical and I had regular scans to check they were growing properly.
Every time I heard their little heartbeats, I thought: Thank you, Dad.
I longed for him to still be here, to share in our amazing news.
Months passed, then at 37 and a half weeks, I was induced.
When nothing happened, Jack was sent home.
But then, one of the twins got into difficulties.
Their heartbeat dropped and I was rushed into the operating theatre for a caesarean.
The surgeon was just about to get to work when suddenly the door burst open and in rushed Jack, out of breath and dressed in scrubs.
‘Just in time,’ I said.
A few minutes later, we heard first one cry, then another.
Our little boy was brought into the world weighing 1.8kg, then our daughter appeared, weighing in at 1.4kg. They were so gorgeous!
Mum cuddled the twins and said, ‘They’re perfect.’
We named the beautiful babies George and Isabella, and chose Brian as a middle name for George, as a tribute to Dad.
Mum cuddled the twins and said, ‘They’re perfect.’
It was a bittersweet moment for both of us.
Of course, she was overjoyed to have two new grandchildren, but we all wished that Dad was there to meet them.
Now the twins are two. They are both thriving and whenever George smiles, I see my dad in him.
At home, I show them photos of their grandad and tell them what a wonderful man he was.
Jack and I will be forever grateful to Dad for making all our dreams come true. Thanks to him we have a real family.
● Jack’s name has been changed.
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