Then, Dr Sanders says in a sandpapery but kind voice, ‘Paige, you won’t be able to give birth naturally – the stress on your heart would be too great. A vaginal birth could potentially take more than twenty-four hours, and the baby isn’t turned the right way. We’re going to need to perform a C-section. It’s the safest option to deliver the baby in this controlled situation where we can monitor everything.’
I close my eyes, letting the confirmation of what I know is coming wash over me.
Nick squeezes my hand.
‘Once again, you’re experiencing heart failure. The C-section is still going to be a risky operation.’
I turn my head to face Nick. ‘I love you. So much.’
‘You’re my everything, Paige. She’s my everything,’ he says, pressing his hand against my belly while he rests another on my cheek. ‘I love you both more than you could know.’
The only thing I can find to write with is a stubby pencil from IKEA. I chew on the end of it while we wait for Dr Sanders to return. Nick leaves the room for what he promises will be less than three minutes so he can talk to Victoria.
As nurses and midwives continue busying themselves around me, I think of Mum and Dad, Ryan and Susannah, and Caitlin and Mark. I think of Ella and Ethan and the way their giggles are like sunshine, of Jordan and the tiny gumnut hat he was wearing the last time I saw him. And I think of Bette and the rhythm of the ocean and our walks along the beach. I think of Hope and Paul and Ollie. And I think of Nick. My pencil is almost blunt, I only have one sheet of paper and I need to make the words count. But how to pen a lifetime of thoughts onto a single page? There are so many things I want Nick to know – things he might need to know about continuing life without me. Does he have any idea that mattresses should be changed every seven years instead of ten or fifteen? We have three years left in ours at the most. The heating ducts should be cleared out yearly. Every autumn I always call the same guy, Brett. He takes his coffee white with three sugars.
Does any of this even matter? I need more time to work this out. I ponder as my pencil hovers over the sheet of paper.
Dear Nick,
If you’re reading this letter, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’re going to have to do this without me. I know it’s going to be hard without me. I know there will be times you will look into Aveline’s eyes and see me. When that happens, I want you to find a way to smile, Nick. Everything I ever wanted was to become a mother and live a happy life with you. I was so very lucky to get everything I ever wanted.
When she’s old enough, tell her, Nick. Tell our baby girl that Mummy said, ‘The sweetest part of loving you was when I was waiting for you.’ I hope she likes the toys I made for her.
I love you. I will always love you.
Your loving wife,
Paige
P.S. Don’t ever worry about running out of toilet paper. All that matters is how much we loved.
Epilogue
Eighteen Years Later
‘The winner of the Victorian Young Australian of the Year is Aveline Bellbrae.’
Nick takes a deep breath and squeezes Ava’s shoulder. ‘Well done, cricket. Knew you could do it,’ he whispers as she squeezes past him.
Nick, Evelyn and David watch as Ava makes her way towards the stage, one hand in her pocket, holding on tightly to the good-luck charm her mother left her – a silver four-leaf clover. She carries it with her whenever she needs a little more confidence.
Ava steps towards the microphone, taking her time and clearing her throat as she scans the room.
‘Look for the three of us and you’ll be fine,’ Nick said to her earlier when she’d told him she was feeling nervous.
She reaches for the microphone, lowering it slightly. She’s wearing the navy-blue dress that Hope bought for her this morning after she’d decided that the floral one Ella had loaned her was too short and wouldn’t do. Nick doesn’t understand anything about dresses or fabrics, but all he knows is that in this moment, his daughter is beautiful, and every bit as special, kind and caring as he and Paige had hoped she would be. She has the same facial features as Paige: large blueish-green eyes, full lips and the hint of a dimple in her right cheek, which, for some reason, is always more prominent when she’s tired. Her hair is darker than Paige’s but lighter than Nick’s, and she often wears it tied back in a ponytail. Tonight, she had it professionally blow-waved. She looks older than her eighteen years, standing there all dressed up, accepting such an exceptional award, and Nick feels his eyes beginning to water as he compares the memories of her as a baby to the moment he’s witnessing now. A moment he never thought he would see.
Ava grips the microphone. ‘Good evening, everyone. It’s an honour to receive this award for the work I’ve been involved in, raising awareness for a rare condition affecting women in late pregnancy or post-partum, called peripartum cardiomyopathy. I’d like to thank my dad, who is here tonight, along with my grandparents. Dad, thanks for always encouraging me and making me feel like I can achieve all the things in life I want to achieve.’
Nick clears his throat, feeling a mix of emotions swell inside him. Pride, happiness, a sense of longing for Paige to be here to share this moment with them.
Ava continues, her voice steadier now, more determined and even. ‘I’d like to dedicate this award to my mother. Through the very act of becoming my mother, she demonstrated courage and determination, but also the kind of dedication and sacrifices we sometimes need to make in order to save a life. Even though you’re not here, Mum, I love you and thank you. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.’
It’s almost eight thirty by the time Nick and Ava arrive back home. Evelyn and David have been following behind them in their car. ‘Hey, sport, you’re a little quiet,’ says Nick as they take their coats off in the entrance. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yeah, everything’s fine. I wish Mum could have been here, that’s all. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have gotten involved in the advocacy work in the first place.’
Nick keeps a straight face, trying not to reveal any emotion. ‘Me too, cricket.’ He hangs her coat on the rack beside his and follows the scent of party foods.
‘I just pulled the sausage rolls out of the oven,’ says Caitlin as Nick and Ava enter the busy kitchen. The bench is covered with platters of canapés and dips. ‘Congratulations, sweetheart,’ she says as she envelops Ava into a warm hug. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
‘Happy Birthday!’ says Hope, handing Ava a gift. ‘I can’t believe you’re already eighteen. So… I take it you won?’ She holds Ava at arm’s length. She’s like the daughter Hope never had. ‘Love this dress on you.’
Ava holds up the award and grins sheepishly.
Hope puts her hand over her heart. ‘Oh, sweetie! Congratulations!’
‘Well done,’ says Paul, grinning.
‘Ollie! Will! Come in here! Ava’s back and she has some news!’ calls Miranda. ‘God, I am so proud of this girl. Nick, you really hit the jackpot with this one.’
Nick laughs. ‘On a good day I guess she’s not too bad.’ He winks at Ava, who gives a dramatic roll of her eyes in response.