Id just left the gynaecology clinic in central London, still trying to make sense of the paper the nurse had handed me. Staring at the line Pregnancy 78 weeks I felt my head spin. How could this have happened? I didnt notice a thing. Did I miss a pill? What nowshould I have a baby? Im fortythree already; this is absurd, I thought as I walked to my car.
At the traffic lights I was so lost in thought I didnt even realise the queue of cars had started to move until the driver behind me blared the horn. I pulled into my flat and set about the chores, hoping the domestic routine would keep the worry at bay.
After lunch my daughter Emily dropped by for a quick visit.
Mum, Ive got a surprise for you! she chirped, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
Spill it, love, dont keep me in suspense, I replied, eyes on her.
James proposed to me, and I said yes! she beamed.
Tremendous, my girl! I said, tears welling as I hugged her.
James was everything I could have hoped for Emilys future: smart, driven, steady, a touch ambitious, welleducated and courteous. At twentyfive he earned a solid salary, lived independently and had been out of his parents house for years. The pair had been together for nearly three years, and Id seen enough of his genuine intent to feel reassured.
Emily, whens the wedding then? I asked while pouring the tea.
Dont know yet, she shrugged. We havent set a date. Probably next summer.
Will you tell your dad? I pressed, looking her straight in the eye.
Im not sure, she admitted, frowning. Honestly, I dont even want to
I tried to soften her stance. Emily, you cant shut him out. Hes your father, he loves you. I know youre hurt, but people do drift apart; thats no reason to cut him off. Ive forgiven him, and you should too. Dont hold a grudge, and make sure hes invited to the wedding.
She snapped back, Mum, how can you say that? He left you for another woman! He was seeing his secretary behind my back for a whole year! How could you possibly forgive him?
I sighed. Mark and I spent twentytwo years together, raised you into a bright, beautiful young woman. Those were happy years, and Im grateful to him for that. But he fell in love with someone else. I tried to keep my voice even. What would you have expected me to do? Throw a tantrum, keep a silent grudge, hate him forever? Thats pointless, Emily.
She shook her head, I dont understand. If James treated me like that, I I dont even know what Id do.
I let the argument drop; Emilys temper would never be soothed by my reasoning. Youth sees things differently, I thought.
When Emily left, I returned to the kitchen, washed the dishes, and pulled the meat for dinner from the freezer. The unexpected pregnancy kept looping in my mind. Giving birth at my age, and without a husband, felt terrifying, yet the thought of being a mother again, caring for a little life, tugged at my heart.
I opened the old photo album stored on the top shelf, flipping through pictures of Emily as a baby in a onesie, smiling up at her grandmother. The next spread showed her a few years older, in a pretty dress at the city park gate the day she fell off a swing, broke her knee and got a thin scar that still lingered. Another picture captured her firstgrade ceremony with a bouquet, standing beside her dad Mark, who looked solemn. I remembered my own youthful self, thin, in a light suit and highheeled sandals, my hair cut in a fashionable bob absurd in hindsight.
There was a snapshot of Emily in the fifthgrade school play, where she played the Snow Maiden. Id sewn her a silver dress with a rabbitfur stole after failing to find anything suitable in shops. Three nights at the sewing machine had paid off; the costume was a hit. A later photo showed the three of us on a beach in Spain, tanned and happy.
A pang of sadness hit me. Id once believed my family was the strongest, most united one around. Mark and I had been inseparable, sharing dreams and a house we finally finished, a car we bought, travels abroad. I opened a boutique for wedding gowns, fulfilling a longheld ambition. Yet my own attempts at motherhood had always ended in loss two early miscarriages, the second halted at fourteen weeks when severe fetal abnormalities were detected. Id wept through a night in the hospital and, after much deliberation, decided Id never try again.
Looking back, irony struck. Once I had youth, a loving husband, stability and a burning desire for another child. Now, after everything fell apart, fate tossed me this surprise pregnancy as a cruel joke.
When Mark announced he was leaving, it wasnt a shock. Id suspected he had a mistress for months, despite his denials. I panicked, launched a fullscale campaign to win him back, even suggesting couples therapy, which he dismissed as nonsense. I read every advice column, tried heartfelt talks, even performed a private stripdance, but nothing worked. A month ago he packed his things and walked out, filed for divorce, and I finally accepted the end. Our long, painful conversation still haunts me; I never understood what he saw in Olivia, the young secretary at his firm petite, glossylipped, with dramatic lashes and a deepV neckline. Id begged him to replace her, but he brushed me off: Lara, I dont care how she looks. Shes efficient, sharp, I cant afford a replacement now. I knew she wasnt the asset he claimed, and later my suspicions were confirmed. He had swapped me for a siliconefilled doll, shattering years of shared life.
Mark left me the city twobed flat I still occupied, while he moved with Olivia to a country house. The thought of another woman living where our happy memories were made where Emilys childhood unfolded infuriated me. Id agreed to stay in the city for work and because Emily and James lived nearby, but the feeling lingered.
The next day, a Saturday, I visited my longtime friend Helen, whom Id known since our children were in the same nursery. She greeted me with a bottle of fine whisky.
Lets have a nip, Lara, pour yourself a generous tot. Ive cooked a roast, perfect with a dram, she winked, pulling out two glasses.
Thanks, Helen, but I cant. Im not supposed to.
Whats that about? Pills? she asked.
No, love, Im pregnant.
She stared, then laughed. Well, look at you! Still chasing men? Or have you already found a lover?
No, dear, this child is Marks. We had a night together a couple of months ago candles, wine, lace and thats all. She placed a hand on her belly for emphasis.
Youre a proper mother, what will you do? Helen asked.
I dont know. I heard its quite late to have a baby now. Raising a child alone at my age, after five decades, with health not what it used to be Maybe I should claim maintenance. But then Emily might be getting married soon, grandchildren on the way. Im not sure.
I left Helens house and drove to my daughters flat.
Hey, Mum! Emily greeted, Come in. Want a coffee?
No, love, Im not in the mood. I need to talk. I asked if James was home.
Hes at his parents, helping with a renovation, she replied. I told her about the pregnancy.
Do you actually want this baby? she asked.
Very much, I whispered, but Im frightened.
What does the doctor say?
He says everythings fine, the babys developing normally. I lost two children in my twenties; the cause was never clear. Im worried about going through that again at my age. Ive read horror stories online. What if something goes wrong? They say its risky after forty.
Listen, Mum, Emily urged, you need thorough checkups. Trust the doctors, not the internet. Many women now give birth after forty without issue. If youre healthy, why not?
I nodded slowly. Maybe youre right. Ill think about it.
She squeezed my hand. Whatever you decide, well support you. Well be there for James too. Tell your dad?
No, I wont. Hes out of the picture.
The scans came back clean, and I chose to keep the baby. I thought about telling Mark, but why? He no longer needed me, and neither did the child. Wed only met a couple of times since the split, when he collected a few boxes from the flat. Six months later he turned up at my workshop.
Lara, Im here for the house deeds. Theyre probably still with you. Ive called, you didnt answer. I went to the city flat but couldnt get in. Did you change the locks? he asked, eyes flicking to my rounded belly.
I did, I replied evenly. What did you expect, that Id let you waltz in whenever you fancied? Were done. I have no documents for you.
He smirked, So you havent wasted any time. Got married yet?
No, Mark, I havent and I wont. My life isnt your concern. Ive got work, and Im busy. He muttered something as he left, still staring at my belly.
Later that day Olivia strutted into his office.
Hun, Im starving, lets go out for dinner, she cooed, perching on the desk edge.
Later, love, Im swamped, Mark replied, distracted.
She pouted, Cant you put everything aside for me?
Go on your own, if you must, he said, turning back to his screen.
When the baby, a little boy I named Daniel, was born in a London hospital, Emily and James were the first to hold him, cradling him in a soft blue blanket.
Blimey, hes tiny! Hard to keep him steady, James whispered, awed.
Hes gorgeous, isnt he? Emily cooed, eyes shining. He looks just like you, Mum.
Thats me, thats me! I laughed, tears of joy spilling over.
Back home, Emily and James had turned one spare room into a nursery, hanging bunting and balloons, and a big sign over the cot reading Happy Birthday, Daniel! I felt a surge of happiness. The little lad thrived, and I felt fit and well. Days drifted by with baby duties, and Emily would often pop in, either staying with Daniel or taking him for a walk in the park so I could have a breather.
See, Emily? Youre already a natural at motherhood, I teased. When its your turn, youll be ready.
Its brilliant, Mum! she grinned.
A few months later, a knock sounded at my flat. Mark stood on the doorstep, a bouquet in hand.
Hello, Lara, he said, offering the flowers, which I declined.
Mark, what brings you here? I asked, arms crossed.
I know Daniel is my son. Helen told me.
And what does that change? I replied coldly.
Im sorry, Lara. I was a fool. Ive realised what Ive lost. I want to raise our child together. Will you let me back? he pleaded, eyes pleading.
I thought of the countless promises broken before. No, Mark. Its far too late. Dont come back. I stepped back and slammed the door, locking it.
You have a right to see your son! he shouted, pounding.
He kept turning up, begging outside when I pushed a pram around the block, pleading for forgiveness and a fresh start. I stayed firm. At Emily and Jamess wedding, Mark made a brief appearance, handed them a sizeable cheque, and left. I later learned hed married Olivia, only for the marriage to dissolve after a few months when she left him for someone else.
And thats where my story stands a man watching a woman navigate a lateinlife surprise pregnancy, a broken marriage, and the strange twists of fate that bring both heartache and unexpected joy.
