Page 20 of Storm in a D Cup

That was true.

‘So… what exactly did happen?’

I told him, the speculum thing snapping included, and I went all clammy again. He went white himself and squeezed my hand.

‘Forget it, sweetheart. I don’t want you doing this. It’s not worth it.’

‘Oh, but it is,’ I assured him. ‘Having a baby is like no other feeling in the world, Julian. I don’t want you to miss out on that.’

As he slowed down to yield to a tractor at the intersection near our home, he turned to look at me, his eyes soft. He was beginning to understand what a woman went through to have a child. And now because of me he might never know the joy of cradling his own kid – something incommensurable. There was nothing like that in the whole wide world. And I’d have done anything to give Julian that.

I caressed the back of his hand. ‘I’ll be fine, Julian. I’m a tough girl.’

If anything, I knew I needed to become even tougher, because my current amount of tough wasn’t exactly going to cut it.

Soon we’d be ready for IVF. But that didn’t stop us from researching every single fertility myth, including religious candles and prayer – anything that looked like someone had pulled them out of the pages of a medieval sorcerer’sHow To Cast A Spellbook.

They were so out of this world they made you wonder whether there actually was some truth to them, like sex on a daily basis (which Julian strongly advocated) and others that only a man could have made up.

‘Get this,’ Julian read as I nestled into the crook of his arm once safely ensconced on the sofa. ‘The consumption of yams, grapefruit juice and even stinging nettles find a scientific justification as far as an increase in fertility may be concerned.’

I sat up. ‘I have to swallow stinging nettles too?’

He chuckled. ‘Silly… Would you?’

‘Anything for you, Julian.’

He put his laptop down and stared at me. The silence was deafening.

‘What?’ I said.

‘I love you, Erica.’

I climbed up his body. ‘Enough to drive into town for a delicioustorta Cecina?’

He laughed. ‘You already having cravings?’

I shrugged. ‘Might as well start practicing.’

So yes, I was on a diet but rewarded myself once in a while for my efforts. It wasn’t like I was doing pushups and knocking down Ferrero Rocher chocolates lined up in front of me on the terracotta tiles on the down-stroke.

And speaking of exercise, the next day, I read about another pseudo-strategy to get pregnant. Handstands.

I hadn’t tried a handstand in a gazillion years. Could I still do one? I used to do them against my bedroom door when I was ten, but now? Only one way to find out. Of course they were no help in getting pregnant – sperm knew its way around, obviously – but I didn’t want to leave any stones unturned. After a night of horror spent in a hospital, waiting to see if Julian would pull through or die and curse me forever from his grave, can you blame me?

So I closed the bedroom door and kicked my flip-flops aside. Then I took a deep breath and bent forward against the door so my hands were adjacent to it. All I had to do was let my legs follow my body and keep them straight up against the door and it would be done. Staying in that position while Julian and I—? Just the thought made me giggle and I collapsed in a pretzel shape against the door in a fit of laughs.

Not funny,a voice inside me chided.

It was, but she was right. Baby-making was serious business, so I peeled myself off the floor and dusted myself off. A fertility miracle-worker or not, I wasn’t budging from here until I managed a handstand. How could I not be able to do this anymore? Had I gained that much weight? Lost that much strength in my arms and hands, with allmydough-kneading? How had that happened, and more importantly,whenhad it happened? When had I become some middle-aged woman who had lost her suppleness and flexibility?

Was this how old age screwed you over, and overnight, to boot? One day you couldn’t do a handstand and the next you couldn’t procreate and before you knew it your hip snapped and you woke up all alone in an old folks’ home?

‘Enough of this bullshit,’ I said out loud and tried again, this time against the opposite wall. I flexed my arms and shoulders and jumped up and down on the spot like a boxer about to face Muhammad Ali. It was now or never. If this wasn’t going to help get me pregnant, it meant that I really was too old, so I might as well cross it off my list.

I leaned forward with my arms and lifted my ass in the air, clenching my teeth, waiting to land in a heap again, but then the back of my calves hit the wall and there I was, standing upside down. I’d done it! Yes! Now to see how long I could resist standing right way up again.

‘Erica, honey?’ Julian called from the stairs and I heard his footsteps as he opened the door to our room.

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