My Sister's Child

by Caroline Finnerty

  “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

  “Also you must also be aware that the donor has no responsibility financially or otherwise for the child.”

  “Of course.”

  “And equally the donor has no paternal rights to a child born as a result of treatment using his sperm. The donor waives all rights to the child with the act of donation itself.”

  She nodded. She knew all this from when she had donated her eggs to Jo.

  “Okay. Well, we’ll start today by taking a sample of blood from you to make sure that everything is working as it should be. Obviously your age is the biggest factor working against us here. Sometimes I see women of your age and they have no problem conceiving but it’s not always that way. The first blood test we will do will check for your AMH profile – these tests aren’t cycle specific so we can do this today – and then you will also be required to give blood samples at Day 3 of your cycle to check your hormone levels, specifically follicle-stimulating hormone, luteinizing hormone, prolactin, oestradiol, T4 and TSH. Then on Day 21 we need another sample to check your progesterone levels, which will tell us if you have ovulated. You can do these at your GP’s surgery and they will forward the results to me. These results will give us a better picture about your ovarian reserve – that is, the quantity of eggs you have left – and also if you are ovulating. Once we have the results of those back, then hopefully we will be in a position to progress to the next stage which would involve you filling out a donor-profile questionnaire where you would indicate your preferences for things like age, ethnicity, height, eye-colour, educational background, allergies et cetera.”

  “It sounds just like choosing off a takeaway menu,” she said, laughing to lighten the mood.

  “Hmmh. Well, usually we would try to select a donor with characteristics to match you or else match to characteristics that you would find acceptable. Then once we have you matched with a suitable donor we begin the insemination process. There are two methods we can use here: either intrauterine insemination or IUI for short, or in-vitro fertilisation also known as IVF. Usually, with both methods you will be required to undergo a course of drugs to stimulate egg production. With IUI the sperm are put in a thin tube, which is inserted into the uterus where we hope it will meet with your eggs and make an embryo. With IVF we harvest your eggs and, in the laboratory, fertilise them with the donor’s sperm to make blastocytes. We will then grade these and if we are lucky and they are of a good quality, we will have several healthy embryos to implant – either a single transfer or, if we feel it merits it, a multiple transfer. However, in your case as a single woman, I would highly recommend nothing greater than a single transfer. Then we wait and hope it results in a successful pregnancy.” He sat back in his leather chair and steepled his fingers together.

  “I see,” she said, already feeling overwhelmed with information.

  “Have you any questions, Isla?”

  “The donors – who are they usually?”

  “Donors are ordinary, healthy men from a broad cross-section of society who are usually between the ages of eighteen and fifty. They only receive a small payment for donation so most of them are students. All donors are checked extensively before being accepted. They are also screened for genetic conditions such as a medical history of heritable diseases and infectious diseases such as sexually transmitted infections to ensure full patient safety.”

  “Will it work? I know you can’t guarantee anything but what is the likelihood of success?”

  “As with all treatments using your own eggs, the younger you are the greater your chances of success. For each treatment cycle, the success rate varies depending on the age of the woman. It varies obviously from person to person – I’ve seen forty-something-year-olds with healthier eggs than twenty-somethings – you could be one of the lucky ones. Have you anything else that you’d like to ask me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay, Isla, I’d like you to read over these information booklets first and then we can talk some more at your next appointment, all right?”

  She nodded.

  “Right then – when you go out the door, go into the next door on your left and a nurse with take your bloods.”

  “Okay,” she said, taking the leaflets from him.

  When she finished giving her blood sample, she went back outside into the bright reception area and walked down the steps. She was starting to feel excited.

  She dreamt that the baby cried for the first time that night. He had never cried before and she didn’t like it, because she wasn’t able to settle him. His cheeks were red and his fists pummelled against her as she tried to soothe him. Her sheets were saturated with sweat when she woke up and she had to go into the shower to cool herself down. As she stood there underneath the flow of water, she couldn’t get the image of his small fractious face from her head.

  It had taken her a long time to settle back to sleep after the dream. She had tossed and turned until eventually her body had given in and let her rest. When she woke the next morning, she was left with a horrible aftertaste from the dream the night before. It had disturbed her. Was it trying to tell her something? Was the baby trying to say something to her? The dreams had always been pleasant before; he was always a happy, smiling baby. She was starting to wonder if the timing of the dream was a sign. Was it a warning? Was it trying to tell her that she shouldn’t go ahead with having a baby? Was it a premonition of what was to come?

  There used to be a photo of Isla and her mum hanging on the sitting-room wall in Lambay Grove but now it sat in a photo album in a cupboard somewhere in Jo’s house. It was taken on her first day of school. They had only been in Lambay Grove for a few weeks at the time and her mother was heavily pregnant with her brother David in it. Isla was dressed in a wine uniform with green trim. The top button on her blouse was open but the collar was held together with a green elasticated tie. Her mum had brushed her hair up into pigtails. Neither of them was smiling in it. They were both staring at the camera stiffly like in a Victorian family portrait. They had the same eyes, Isla and her mother. Their eyes had the same intensity and were a shade between hazel and green. Jo had their dad’s eyes, like the clearest blue of a winter sky. The photo was taken in front of the house and they were just standing beside each other like two people not related to each other, not a mother about to leave her daughter for her first day at school. Isla often wondered why her mother hadn’t held her hand or put an arm around her shoulders. Why hadn’t she crouched down beside her and hugged her close?

  That would be Isla’s biggest fear about having a child – that as a mother she would be like her mum. That it wouldn’t come easily to her and history would repeat itself and she wouldn’t do it right. She wasn’t naïve – she knew that no parent was perfect – but the intention had to be there. You had to want to get it right most of the time. You had to care enough.

  Chapter 12

  An Argument

  On Saturday morning Isla walked up the hill towards Jo’s house and took in the view below her down to the sea. The house was in the centre of the arc that swept from Howth Head on the left to Killiney Hill on the right. If you folded a map of Dublin Bay in half, her house would be in the crease. The sunlight was shimmering and twinkling on the calm sea. She breathed in the salty air and let it fill up her lungs. The bitter wind roared loudly in her ears until they started to sting.

  When Isla arrived, Jo was busy juicing. Isla sat up at the breakfast bar and watched as her sister tumbled a carton of blueberries into the machine followed by a fistful of seaweed. Isla had made up her mind to tell Jo. She needed to be able to talk to someone about it, to voice her worries and concerns, and Jo was only person she could trust.

  “Want one?” she asked Isla, holding up a glass full of murky green liquid.

  “No, thanks.”

  “It’s full of antioxidants.” She had an obsession with free radicals. Said they were responsible for so many diseases.

  �
�I’m okay, thanks. So where’s Réiltín?”

  “She’s bowling with some friends.”

  “I want to talk to you about something.”

  “You worry me when you say things like that.”

  “I went for some tests recently.”

  “Oh yeah?” She turned to examine Isla’s face. “You’re okay, aren’t you? You’re not sick?” Her forehead creased downwards in concern. “Please don’t tell me there’s something wrong – I don’t think I could cope.”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that –”

  “Oh, thank God!” She breathed out a huge sigh of relief. “Tests for what?”

  “Fertility.”

  “Fertility?”

  “I’m thinking of having a baby . . .” Isla said quietly.

  “You’re thinking of having a baby?” Jo said incredulously. “But how on earth are you going to have a baby? You’re not even in a relationship!”

  “No, I’m not, but there are ways around these things . . .”

  “There are ways around these things?”

  “Stop repeating everything I’m saying to you!”

  “Sorry, it’s just a shock, that’s all. So you’re thinking of using a donor then, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  “Yeah, it’s not ideal but I think it’s the only way for me, to be honest.”

  “But you can’t just decide to do something like that on a whim!”

  “I haven’t decided to do it on a whim. You know this dream that I keep having about the baby? I don’t know . . . it’s like it’s trying to tell me something . . .”

  “Oh, that’s a great reason to have a baby! Because you had ‘a dream’! Jesus, Isla, can’t you just come join the rest of us in the real world for once? I didn’t know you even wanted to have a child!”

  “Well, it’s only something I’ve decided on lately.”

  “So it is a whim then!”

  “No, it’s not. I mean I’ve been thinking about it for a while but only made up my mind to go for it recently.”

  “But why would you want to do something like that on your own? You haven’t thought it through properly. You can’t just decide to have a child because it takes your fancy one day! You can’t give them back, you know, when you’ve been up all night and they are screaming for no reason or when they’re throwing a temper tantrum – you can’t give them back when it gets hard, you know!”

  “Give me some credit, please, Jo!”

  “But you haven’t got a clue about how hard being a parent is. If you want something to care for why don’t you just get a puppy or kitten or something a bit low maintenance! This is just typical you!”

  “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “C’mon, Isla, you have to admit it’s a crazy idea? You can barely take care of yourself. How do you plan on supporting a baby?”

  “It’s not just a financial matter – I can give a child so much love.”

  “And love is going to buy food and clothes, schoolbooks and after-school activities, is it?”

  “I’ll manage. It’ll be tight but I could try and do some painting on the side – you know, when the baby is asleep – I could try and sell it at some of the markets or maybe I might be able to get a space in Merrion Square – you know, the way they have those artists on a Sunday?”

  “Well, I’m sorry but if you haven’t managed to do ‘some painting’ and sell it at the markets up until now, I can’t see you suddenly finding the time to do it after you have a baby! And do you intend to haul a baby around the markets with you? And, anyway, how on earth do you think you could raise a child on such an unreliable source of income?” Her tone was condescending, almost contemptuous. “God, I can’t believe you are even considering it, Isla – it’s total madness!”

  “Why can’t you just be happy for me? A bit of support is all I want –”

  “Because I have a child already, Isla! I know the commitment and patience that being a parent requires, not to mention the financial strain it will put on you!”

  “Lots of mothers have to do it alone.”

  “Yeah, because they don’t have a choice! But I bet if you asked any of them if they’d prefer to be raising their child with someone, they’d all give you a resounding yes! It’s hard work as part of a couple – no one in their right mind would do it alone if they didn’t have to.”

  “Why is it so different to when you wanted to have a child?”

  “Well, because Ryan and I were together for a start! We had a stable and loving home. We had so much more to offer than you. What can you give a child? You live in a shoebox, in a dodgy area of the city. Your flat doesn’t even have a lift for Christ sake! Would you drag a buggy up and down those stairs every day? You don’t even earn enough to support yourself!”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, then, why did you have to borrow money off me to pay your rent earlier in the year?”

  Isla had no argument for that.

  “The whole point of having a child is that you have to put that person’s needs before your own,” Jo continued. “How can you take care of a child when you’re not even grown-up enough to look after yourself? You hate commitment – you always say that you don’t want to be tied down. You’re being selfish even considering it. I’m sorry, Isla, but this is just typical you – you just jump straight in and never think about the consequences. You don’t think things through properly.”

  “I’m not a child any more, Jo. I have thought it through and I want to have a baby.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Isla.”

  She placed the glass down so its bottom spun on the marble counter top before coming to a stop. She walked out of the room, leaving Isla sitting alone in her kitchen.

  After Isla left, Jo was fuming. She doubted Isla had even considered just how much responsibility you bore when you took another life into yours. The constant worry that weighed you down, the frightening news headlines that brought home just how vulnerable you were once you had a child. Not to mention the financial demands of feeding, clothing and educating a child. No, she knew that Isla would never have thought of the things that Jo, as a mother, needed to think of. Isla would never cope with that kind of responsibility. The constant stress of trying to balance motherhood with work demands, home-life and also with being a wife. Jo’s head was constantly thinking. She was thinking about who would pick Réiltín up from hockey practice or whether they had lemongrass in the fridge for the curry that she would be making that evening. She was thinking about insurance renewals and whether her pension was too heavily weighted in favour of the property market. She was thinking of the money she needed to leave out to pay their cleaner, or making a mental note to ask her secretary to send flowers to one of their clients who recently slipped on ice and had broken her ankle. She was thinking about arranging for their landscaper to come and do a tidy-up of the flowerbeds. She was thinking about her book club which it was her turn to host and she was wondering if she could cheat and use store-bought pastry to make the canapés that she would be serving instead of making her own. Her head never stopped thinking. Jo prided herself on her organisational skills. Staying on top of everything like she did was her talent, like some people were sporty or artistic – this was her thing and she knew she was good at it. She was constantly thinking ahead of herself, because she knew that if she stopped thinking just for a second, the whole thing could fall apart. Jo knew that Isla wouldn’t last five minutes with that kind of responsibility.

  Chapter 13

  Doubts

  After their argument in the kitchen that evening, Jo and Isla went without talking for a week. Not since the period after their dad had died had they gone that long without speaking. It felt strange to Isla; she missed their early morning walks together on the beach. She would go to pick up the phone to call Jo but then she would remember their argument and maybe it was petty pride or stubbornness but she couldn’t bring herself to ring her. Réiltín rang her every
day to chat as usual but she obviously didn’t know about the exchange that had taken place between her mother and Isla.

  Réiltín had asked Isla the day before whether she would be at her hockey league final that afternoon and Isla, not wanting to let her down, had said that she would be. Isla had asked Greg if he would mind if she popped down to the school for a while and he’d told her to go ahead.

  As Isla neared the pitch, she scanned the sidelines for Jo and Ryan. She spotted Jo dressed in a large black puffer jacket and Ryan in his work suit. She felt her heart rate quicken as she made her way over towards them.

  “Hi, Isla,” Jo said as she approached.

  Isla could tell by her tone that she was taken aback to see her.

  “Réiltín asked me to come,” she mumbled quickly.

  “Hi, Isla,” Ryan said.

  They all turned back to watch the match, only talking occasionally if the team scored or if the referee made a decision against them. They cheered as Réiltín on the wing took control of the ball from the opposition and dribbled it back to the defence to clear it away from the goal, maintaining their two-point lead with only two minutes to go. They all jumped ecstatically when the fulltime whistle sounded.