Lost it all

As myself and my husband were contemplating IVF for the third time, our bank balance reflected the strain that it had put on our relationship. The fear of her miscarrying again was something I didn’t think she could handle.

My husband’s best friend Esther, was both the vessel and the friend who agreed to do this for nothing more than the reference to an ‘auntie’ to the unborn baby. We were both truly grateful that there was an Esther out there for us as not many women would consider putting their body through pregnancy and then childbirth just to be referred to as an aunt.

I had my suspicions as she was an openly gay single woman in her late thirties, and us, two gay men desperate for a baby, that she was going to run off with the child and say that she had miscarried again just to keep cherub. I found it strange for her to be willing to do this for a third time and after careful deliberation with myself I voiced my opinion to my husband, Mark. It was not a conversation that went well!

Mark knew we were strapped for cash and wanted to put my grandmothers engagement ring into pawn to pay for the procedure.

‘Its just going into pawn, we can get it back when funds open up a bit!’ he said not knowing how much I loved this ring. ‘Besides, if we pay every week, we will be guaranteed for it to be still there for when we’re in a position to get it back.

Reluctantly I agreed so we made our way downtown to the major pawnbroker in the area.

‘And you’ll keep it as long as we pay weekly?’ I reiterated about ten times.

‘Relax,’ the pawn broker gesticulated, ‘your ring will be safe with me!’ I saw a twinkle in his eye that made me uneasy, but we left the pawn shop €20,000 richer. Just as we were at the door I turned and he smiled, ‘your ring is safe!’

The pure fact that it was no longer in my possession made me feel as though I was growing farther apart from the grandmother, Maggie who I loved like a second mother.

The fact we hadn’t killed each other before Esther had begun to ovulate again was a miracle. She signed a piece of paper and we signed a piece of paper and biparty bop we were pregnant. It was something I never thought would happen and each week into the progression of the pregnancy, I was down to the pawn broker paying off the interest to the beautiful brilliant cut, 3.5ct diamond ring on a platinum band.

Once the twelve-week scan was over and we had the first selfie of our child, my father unfortunately passed. He left me the house in the will and myself and Mark thought it a great idea to move into it and sell our apartment what with the baby coming. We both knew that having a back garden is almost essential to tire a little one out.

The packing up of our apartment when Esther was now sixteen weeks along and beginning to show, felt like a fresh start for us. She was happy, we were happy, and most of all I was in a place financially to retrieve my grandmothers ring.

I walked into the pawn brokers with my head held high, €20,000 in an envelope, ecstatic that I would be reunited with the one thing my grandmother had left me.

‘Make sure you give it to the girl of your dreams!’ she had told me, not knowing that I was gay as she was a deeply religious woman and I wasn’t going to contradict her as I didn’t want to be a disappointment.

I handed the cash over to the pawn broker who looked like a deer in headlights.

‘I would like to take my grandmothers ring out of pawn please.’ I beamed at him, my face dropped at his reaction.

‘I’m afraid Mr Smith that I sold that ring on weeks ago!’ he winced at his own words.

It was lucky that there were security guards present as I lunged towards him throwing myself over the counter.

‘YOU WHAT!!’ I screamed aggressively. I knew that was illegal and felt the tears roll down my suddenly pale face.

I was escorted from the building my cash in hand and drove haphazardly home to Mark.

When I entered the house, I heard him crying. I ran towards the kitchen where he sat at the island, a note in his hand.

‘She’s gone!’ he cried. ‘Esther, she’s gone!’

I rushed over to him and he handed me the letter. It read:

My dearest Mark and Geoff,

I’m writing this to you to tell you that I just cannot give this baby up. I thought I could but seeing the little profile of her face last week confirmed in my mind that I cannot just be an auntie, I am the mother! I will send you updates on how she is doing sporadically and tell her in years to come about who her daddy’s were and how she came to be.

I’m so sorry to do this to ye, but I ask that ye don’t come looking for us as I am sending you this letter from Canada. I know Geoff that you had your reservations of this happening and all I can say is that I’m sorry and that she is my baby and I won’t give her up!

Esther.

I crumpled up the piece of paper and planted the €20,000 that was still in an envelope onto the island. Mark looked up at me doe eyed.

‘He sold it weeks ago,’ I said with tears in my eyes, ‘so because of you we have not only lost a baby, but I have lost the only thing that connected me with my grandmother!’

Mark looked at me open mouthed and it moved like a fish as he was trying to find the words but fell silent.

Several months passed as we lived like strangers in the night rattling around the big house with the garden. The postman came and went with no news of Esther.

As Mark collected the post from the hall floor one morning, he saw a postmark from Canada amongst a sea of bills.

‘Geoff, Geoff,’ he cried out, finding me eating cereal in the kitchen. ‘The post mark says Canada!’

My spoon fell into the bowl of half-eaten cherios with a clink and I looked up at Mark expectantly. He ripped open the letter and a photograph simply fell out. On the back of the picture was the name ‘Maggie,’ my grandmothers name.

Mark looked at me and smiled, ‘maybe she will live on in you forever!’

I hugged my husband for the first time since I lost everything and felt safe in the knowledge that everything was resolved.