Every year, around this time, I sit down and watch a couple of nights of the Chelsea Flower Show. I do like gardening, but I’m an amateur that dabbles and have not really re-invigorated my passion whilst my children have been so young.
However, every year, I forget why it’s such a lovely programme for me to watch. The crowds, the plants, the sunshine, the excitement, but mostly….
it brings back the most wonderful memories for me. The memory of hearing my unborn daughter’s heartbeat and seeing her inside of me.
After 4 years of infertility which included 5 IUI’s we got lucky on our first IVF attempt. I really thought I wouldn’t be a mother, well not a pregnant one at least. However, there I was, getting off the tube with hordes of excited people all heading to the Chelsea Flower Show. Trying to get around the excited crowds and then finally crossing the road that sent everyone off to the entrance to the CFS and I went on ahead, towards The Thames and to the Lister Clinic.
To find out, at 6 weeks, whether I had twins, a singleton or the possibility of something far more sad. All that hope and fear.
I was on my own as hubby had a job to do and we needed the money. So it was just me with all that going on.
Then that delightful sound of horses hooves (a baby’s heartbeat) and the little Pickle there, in the right place with her heart fluttering, fluttering away. Nice and strong.
I floated back down the road to the tube station. Quick call to my Mother-in-law who had helped us a bit with the treatment and was sitting and waiting to hear the news. A text to hubby that just read “One Baby on board. Well done Daddy”.
Back through the babbling, excited crowds, clutching their pots, totes and travelcards.
I love the Chelsea Flower Show.