A DARING HAPPINESS
“Mother, the last way for us to have a child is IVF. Cyril and I have made up our minds. You won’t talk us out of it, so you’d better get used to the idea,” Sophie said in one breath.
“IVF? So, I’ll have an artificial grandchild—from a test tube?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing from my own daughter.
“Call it what you like, Mum. We start the procedures tomorrow. All the tests are done. The doctors warned us—it’ll be a long, uncertain road. No guarantees. Please, try to be patient.” Sophie sighed heavily.
I was speechless. I ought to have comforted her, offered hope, helped—or at least not stood in her way.
We’d had the conversation over the phone. I understood—Sophie couldn’t face talking about it in person. The subject was too fraught.
Her first marriage had been to her childhood sweetheart, Andrew. Their love had seemed eternal—or so Sophie thought. But at their wedding reception in a dim little pub, the groom, having drunk too much, ended up in the arms of the bridesmaid. Sophie found them in a “romantic” setting—a dusty storage room.
Andrew, spotting his bride, stammered some excuse; the bridesmaid, clutching her things and covering herself with a shawl, bolted from the scene and wasn’t seen again that day.
Sophie filed for divorce. My husband and I begged her not to act rashly.
“Sophie, don’t be hasty. People do foolish things when they’re drunk. That bridesmaid probably dragged Andrew into that wretched cupboard. He’s a good man—she just couldn’t resist. Forgive him, darling. You have your whole lives ahead. You’ll regret this.”
“No, Mum, I won’t. Andrew stung me—and it hurts. But I won’t begin married life with lies and betrayal. Thank God it happened on the wedding day. Less suffering for me.” Sophie was firm.
Andrew pleaded, apologised, repented—all in vain.
Then, months later, we learnt Sophie was pregnant with Andrew’s child. Without telling me, she quietly ended it. Had I known, I would have begged her to return to him.
Time passed. Cyril, Andrew’s best friend, proposed to Sophie. He’d loved her for years but hadn’t dared cross his friend—until now. Sophie took her time accepting. Burned once, she trusted no one. She hesitated for three years. Cyril never wavered. Finally, she was convinced.
“Cyril… is your proposal still open?”
“Of course, Sophie! Do you mean you’ll marry me?” He kissed her hand.
She nodded.
Overjoyed, Cyril threw a lavish wedding. All their friends were there—except Andrew, though he sent an enormous bouquet of fragrant lilies. Sophie refused them and gave the flowers to an unmarried friend.
She was twenty-eight, Cyril thirty-three. Two years into their marriage, there were still no children.
“Sophie, do you and Cyril have a plan, or is it just not happening?” I asked carefully.
“It’s not happening, Mum. I’m worried. Cyril won’t talk about it—I think he blames himself. We’ll wait another year, then…” She looked away.
“Then what? Adoption?”
“Time will tell. We’ll have a child, one way or another.” She smiled mysteriously.
“God willing! Your father and I long for grandchildren.” I stroked her hair.
Another two years of trying. Then Sophie told me about IVF. I was dead against it.
“Sophie, they say these children have no souls, they’re sickly, unnatural—that they can’t have children themselves. Like robots.”
“Mum, the method is forty years old. It’s used worldwide. So many couples are infertile now. Test-tube babies are just like any others. It’s just… hard. You’ve no idea what Cyril and I have been through. But get ready for grandchildren—it might even be twins. The first IVF women later had children naturally.” She was desperate to convince me.
I realised the process had begun—there was no turning back. All we could do was hope and stay strong.
The journey was costly, exhausting, gruelling. Sophie only conceived on the fourth attempt. She spiralled into depression, weeping hysterically. The hormones made her gain weight, while Cyril grew thin from the strain of her mood swings.
“Mum, I’m afraid to sneeze, to cough—what if I lose it? I won’t try a fifth time. I’m so tired… All this suffering because of that first abortion. How could I not have done it? And now I’m paying for it.” She wiped away bitter tears.
They took two seaside holidays—Sophie needed the respite. Her nerves were frayed; she nearly leapt from a window. Cyril never left her side, shielding her with love.
“Cyril is my rock, my meadow, my warm breeze,” she confessed. “I couldn’t have endured this without him.”
After eight months of hope and despair, our little Emily was born—a touch early, as IVF babies often are.
The family was overjoyed—though Cyril’s mother doubted the child was his.
“Son, what if she isn’t yours?” she whispered. “Her nose isn’t like yours, and her ears stick out. Yours lie flat. Maybe the hospital mixed things up…”
But as Emily grew, she became the image of her father. Only then did his mother stop fretting about ears and noses.
“Test-tube” children aren’t accidents. They’re longed for, fiercely loved, coddled as no others. Their childhoods are golden, spent cupped in their parents’ hands like sunlight.
Sophie and Cyril had to move. One day, as I pushed Emily in her pram, mothers gossiped nearby. Then a nurse from the clinic walked past.
“Hello, mums! And a special hello to the IVF grandma!” she announced loudly.
I wanted the ground to swallow me.
“Have you lost your senses? How dare you shout that to the world!”
The nurse blinked rapidly. “Oh! I thought everyone knew Emily was… different.”
“You’re right—she is different.” I wheeled Emily away.
After that, neighbours pestered Sophie with tactless questions. We feared some busybody might tell Emily about her origins before her parents could.
In the end, they sold their flat and moved across town.
Emily is five now—bright, lively, mischievous. She adores nursery, bossing the other children, fibbing clumsily to her teachers.
Health-wise, she has allergies (a strict diet), a speech delay (weekly lessons), and slight shortsightedness (glasses soon). These troubles happen to “ordinary” children, too.
The important thing is Sophie and Cyril’s dream came true—their beautiful daughter. And my husband and I can’t imagine life without our little ray of sunshine.
