I thought I had cancer again. Here I was, after so many false starts, happy beyond anything I could have dreamed. I’d met my soulmate, I was doing work that I loved; I was healthy and fit, my world was perfect. For the first two months I didn’t notice; I’d come to terms with the fact that I would never become pregnant, a barren woman, that was a phrase flung at me by my ex-husband.
When the third month passed and I realized the absence of my monthly visitor, I went to see old Doc Perlman. I was stoic; I’d beaten the dreaded C before. We chatted a while and then he said OK, my girl, let’s have a look at you.
His face was sombre when I’d dressed and returned to his desk. He made notes in my file, closed it and looked up at me. What are your plans for mid-July? He asked.
Oh, I’m not sure, why? I said.
His kind eyes started to twinkle. You’re going to have a baby around then …
And I drove away from his rooms in a daze. I still – to this day – haven’t gotten over the fact that the gods have been so kind to me.
This special blessing.
She’ll be 12 years old tomorrow.