Raising Daniel

17

We had set a date for after the baby's birth, which was looming closer, just three months to go until we met our child. But within weeks of being diagnosed, it seemed that time was running out faster than any of us could have imagined. She'd had four rounds of chemotherapy and 20 fractions of radiotherapy, both leaving her drained and very ill. I dreaded to think how ill she would've become had she taken the stronger treatment. She had gotten so sick so quickly. In the space of a few days she had struggled to open jars and had dropped cups of juice and tea on the floor. Like her hands could no longer grip properly. I tried my best not to notice, I didn't want to notice. And soon it was a struggle for her to stand up from her chair. I had hoped it was just the treatment, but I'd had a growing fear that it was the cancer.

The results of the latest CT scan were not good.

'We had hoped to shrink the tumor and contain it. But unfortunately it's now measuring 7cms and there seems to be smaller, new tumors growing in other parts of the brain too.'

'But I don't understand, I thought you said this would control it...' This time she was the one with the questions and I sat in silence, stunned.

'That is what we'd hoped for. But it's more aggressive than we had thought.'

'Does that mean...if we had gone with the other plan, that wouldn't have worked either?' She asked.

'More than likely. Sometimes we just can't beat it. I am so very sorry.' In a way I felt glad. She had been right; we would've lost the baby for no reason. I hoped she could take comfort in that.

'How long now?' We both said at the same time.

'Six months.' Silence fell on the room. I took a moment to contemplate what that meant. Just six months. 180 days. 4320 hours. 259000 minutes. We had lost a whole year. 'At best. I strongly advise an early delivery of the baby, in the next few weeks, so we can do everything we can to make you comfortable.'

'No. The baby comes when it's ready. I'm not rushing it.' She hadn't even thought before speaking. Sometimes I couldn't stand her stubbornness.

'Hannah, come on, if the baby is out we could maybe try the stronger-'

'We've had this conversation before. I'm not doing it.' She fired at me. 'The baby stays put. I'm not having a premature baby to contend with at the same time.' I had seen the fire inside her that I'd been so drawn to, just for a little while it shone bright.

Later that day though, I could see the fire had been doused once it looked like everything was sinking in. She seemed lost. I caught her standing in Maddie's room, holding a pile of clean washing, just staring at the messy bed.

'You ok?' I called from the doorway. She nodded, but her eyes were out of focus, looking past me. 'Do you want me to go get the girls?' She nodded again. I walked over to her, wrapped my arms around her shoulders and whispered that I loved her. I knew she'd been dreading getting the girls that day. They knew we had been at the hospital for results and we'd told them we were hopeful that Mummy could be a little better. It was a bad idea to build their hopes up.

Lily was full of smiles and tales, as normal, chatting her head off in the back of the car. She was planning her fifth birthday party and everyone who was invited, even the cake she wanted. She'd only turned four recently. It wasn't for another eight months...Hannah wouldn't be there. She wouldn't be there for Maddie's thirteenth either. Or Christmas. I had to pull myself together before Maddie got in the car.

'How did it go?' I'd hoped Maddie would wait until we were home to ask. But she must've realized that Hannah wasn't in the car.

'It went ok. Not as good as we'd hoped, but ok.'

'What does that even mean?' She snarled.

'It means, I'd rather talk about this when Lils in bed and your Mum is here.'

'Wheres Mummy? Is she in the hospital?' Lily asked, concerned. So far Hannah had avoided any over night stays in hospital, managing to get appointments during the day for everything. As far as Lily knew, Hannah was going to work everyday and picking them up from school and nursery on the way home.

'You don't have to lie, you know?'

'I'm not lying.'

'You keep treating us like were idiots. I spoke to my friend Sarah and she said Mums going to die no matter what.' Things between Maddie and I had been amicable so far, but there was certainly a hostility to her voice recently. A combination of hormones and grief did not mix. And I was clueless about how to deal with it.

'Well, Sarah needs to keep her mouth shut, doesn't she?' I snapped back.

'You know what, Dan, you come into my house, acting like your my Dad, telling me what to do, taking our Mum away from us and then lie and pretend that we're a big happy family. We're not. And we never will be. When Mum dies, I'm moving out. You're not my Dad and you never will be.'

I couldn't even react before she had stormed from the car, slammed the door shut and run off. I was left stunned. I had expected this very conversation to arise at some point. I was surprised the whole 'you're not my Dad' hadn't already happened. But for her to choose this moment in time when I already had to face the reality of her Mum dying sooner rather than later, was just terrible timing. And now I had lost her and I wasn't too sure what to do.