Heartbreak battle for our baby boy
Having battled breast cancer, miscarriages and IVF, Vicki Fryer believed she’d never be a mum. Here, she shares her story
As I lay in bed in the cosy room of our holiday cottage, I clutched my stomach and tried so hard to keep calm. I was 11 weeks’ pregnant and my husband Chris and I had come for a holiday to Devon with our friends. we’d been looking forward to spending a few days walking along the seaside and cooking big meals. But the day after I arrived I’d started to bleed. at first, I’d tried not to panic. my friends assured me that spotting was normal in some pregnancies. Besides, I told myself, after everything Chris and I had been through, this baby was meant to be. only, now the bleeding was so much heavier.
I’d called my midwife but because it was a bank holiday, I couldn’t have a scan for another three days. So I’d come to bed to rest – and hope. But deep down I think both Chris and I knew there was just too much blood. When we finally got to the hospital, a doctor confirmed it. Our baby was gone. We drove home in silence, both of us lost in our own pain. Hadn’t we been through enough already?
Four years earlier in September 2009, I’d been in the shower when I’d found a lump on my left breast. Aged just 30, I’d been diagnosed with breast cancer. I opted for a mastectomy, but I still needed chemotherapy. Doctors explained that the treatment would be harsh, destroying not just the cancerous cells in my body, but the good ones too. I was advised to freeze my eggs in case they were damaged.
Chris and I had hoped to have a family one day. So I booked into a fertility clinic and just before Christmas 2009, doctors created – and froze – four embryos. Then the following month I started six rounds of chemotherapy.
I was exhausted and frail but by April, it was over. Four months later Chris and I got married and, after having my other breast removed – just to be safe – life seemed good
‘this tiny baby had beaten the odds’
again. I went back to work as a retail store manager and a year later we started thinking about trying for a family. Despite what the doctors had warned, we wanted to see if I could fall pregnant naturally.
Incredibly, in March 2013, almost three years after my cancer treatment had finished, I missed a period. When the test revealed I was pregnant, it seemed like a miracle.
Chris and I loved telling our close friends and family. It felt good to have some exciting news to share. I relished every chance to talk about our baby and our new life. But then, on that trip to Devon, everything changed.
Losing our baby was tough. It was months before I could even think about trying again. When we finally did, in August 2013, I fell pregnant again – only for the same thing to happen six weeks later. We were devastated, and doctors confirmed it was unlikely I’d ever have a baby without help. So in January 2014 we got in touch with the fertility clinic where our frozen embryos were being stored. We were told we needed to go through genetic screening first – it hadn’t been a routine part of the treatment when the embryos had been created in late 2009. Only when the results came back, Chris and I were hit with another shock. We were both carriers of cystic fibrosis, the genetic condition that causes the lungs and digestive system to be clogged with mucus. It would mean our child would have a one-in-four chance of having the condition. ‘Maybe we’re just not meant to be parents,’ I sobbed. But Chris reminded me there was a chance our baby could be OK. So doctors implanted the first embryo, but it didn’t take. I fell pregnant with the next two, but both were shown to have the condition and the pregnancies were terminated. It was devastating, but in May 2016 we found the courage to try for the fourth and final embryo. Like before, I fell pregnant. And, at 13 weeks I had a needle injected into my placenta to test for the condition. Then it was another agonising wait for the results. When the phone call came a couple of days later, I was expecting to be dealt a further blow. But our baby didn’t have cystic fibrosis and it wasn’t a carrier either. Somehow, this tiny baby had beaten the odds.
The doctor asked if we wanted to know the sex. ‘Can you put it in an envelope?’ I asked. It was five months to Christmas and I planned to keep the envelope secret and under the tree ready to open with our family on Christmas Eve.
As my bump grew, I became more and more excited. I’d get the envelope and hold it up to the light to see if I could read through the paper, for just the tiniest clue as to whether we were having a boy or a girl. Then one time, I was in our local bakery when I mentioned to the lady serving about my special Christmas Eve plan. ‘Why don’t you give me the envelope and I’ll take a look and bake you a cake with either blue or pink inside?’ she said. ‘Then you can cut it open and see for yourself.’
It was a lovely idea and a few days later I dropped the envelope off at the bakery. Finally, on Christmas Eve 2016, we had the chocolate-covered cake and Chris and I invited my parents over for the big reveal. I was now 35 weeks’ pregnant.
‘Here we go then,’ I said as Chris and I clasped the knife. Carefully, we plunged it into the cake. As I pulled out the slice, I saw a pale blue sponge. ‘We’re having a boy,’ I said, happy tears spilling down my cheeks.
And on 19 January 2017 – seven years after the embryo was first created – our son Abe was born, weighing 7lb 10oz. ‘My beautiful boy,’ I smiled, as I held him for the first time.
Now Abe is 11 months old, crawling and causing havoc! But he’s such a happy baby – always laughing and smiling.
This Christmas will be our first as a family of three and, even though Abe is still just a baby, I can’t wait to put out a mince pie for Santa and carrots for the reindeer. It will be the start of our festive traditions. It took a long while, but we got our miracle in the end.