Scroll to the bottom for the chance to WIN £50!
When my husband passed away, I found a way for him to live on with me forever, By Lauren McGregor, 34
Staring out of the window, I looked out to the night sky as a tear trickled down my cheek.
To the left of me was my partner, Chris, who was also wide awake.
And that’s how we laid, for the hours that followed.
Silent, still, scared.
I so desperately wanted to turn over hug him and tell him how much I loved him, as I had done all day long.
But every time I opened my mouth, a lump appeared in my throat, and I felt like I was going to break down all over again.
Suddenly, I felt Chris’s hand take hold of mine and
I closed my eyes tightly and forced myself memorize the way my hands felt in his.
Because I knew that in just a few short weeks I’d be lying in that bed alone and memories were all I’d be left with.
Six years earlier, Chris was diagnosed with a brain tumour.
He had booked himself in for an appointment with his GP after he struggled to shake a persistent cold and became so forgetful that he couldn’t remember my name.
He underwent surgery where 95% of the tumour was removed, but devastatingly, two years later, it got wise and began to grow again.
It was always Chris’s wish that we had a baby together, so we decided to freeze his sperm before he underwent six weeks of radiotherapy and six months of gruelling chemotherapy.
We tried our best to carry on with life after that, and we even got engaged but within two years the tumour had grown yet again so back to the chemotherapy suite Chris went.
However, when the pandemic hit, Chris’s oncologist made the decision to stop his chemotherapy as it was supressing his immune system, and this would put him at high risk of dying if he caught covid.
But six weeks after he stopped his treatment, Chris was becoming more easily confused that normal, and I knew it was the tumour up to its old tricks again.
I insisted he had an MRI scan.
'Chris has just weeks to live'
We laid awake in bed all night because just a few hours earlier, Chris’s oncologist presented us with the results.
He said: ‘Chris has just weeks to live.’
At the hospital Chris and I broke down in each other arms; our world had been rocked to its core.
We had known each other since I was six months old, and he was five years old as our mums grew up together.
They drifted apart over time, and I reunited with Chris at his mum’s funeral when I was 25, having not seen him for 15 years.
We started out as friends for a couple of months, but after that, we fell madly in love.
I wanted to make our love story official, so the day after we were informed of Chris’s prognosis, with the help of nurses, I arranged our wedding.
I got the living room ready for a ceremony and two days after that it will was filled 10 of our closest family and friends.
Chris could hold conversation at that point but found it hard to comprehend much, yet he was still cracking jokes and making everyone laugh as usual.
‘Do you take Lauren?’ asked the registrar.
‘Do I have to?’ joked Chris.
He was determined to live his final days the same way he lived his 37 years; with smiles and laughter.
But when I looked into his eyes, I should have seen my future, and it broke my heart knowing that he would soon be my past.
Two weeks later, Chris’s temperature spiked, and he was admitted back to hospital and I stayed by his side every day, holding his hand, and kissing his face and telling him how much I loved him.
Four days later, he cleared his throat and tried his best to speak.
‘Behave yourself you,’ I laughed through tears.
I knew that everything that came out of his mouth was cheeky.
The next day, Chris fell into a coma and 19 days after we got married, he peacefully passed away.
The pain I felt was indescribable and I cried into my pillow every night and wondered how I could live the rest of my life without Chris.
Then came a voice inside my head.
You don’t have to, it said.
I realised that using his frozen sperm would give me a chance of bringing back a part of Chris.
However, the fertility clinic’s protocol, meant that I had to abide by a nine-month grieving period before considering IVF.
But in September 2021, 10 months after Chris’s death, I underwent my first round.
My close friends and family were all so supportive as they too, were all missing Chris terribly and were looking forward to having a piece of him back.
A week later I started to feel ill and decided to take a pregnancy test and when the timer was up, I looked at the test and my jaw hit the floor.
‘I’m pregnant!’ I exclaimed.
I cried out of happiness that I was carrying a life that was half me and half Chris, I cried out of shock that the IVF had worked on my first try and I cried out of sadness that Chris would never get to meet our child.
After the 12-week mark, I revealed the news to Chris’s son from a previous relationship and he was delighted too.
I went for a private scan at 18 weeks to find out the gender of the baby and as I laid on the bed, I tried to imagine Chris was there with me.
‘You’re having a boy,’ smiled the sonographer and I burst into the happiest tears.
A mini Chris, I thought.
Three days before my due date I went into labour and the staff let me take photos of Chris into the operating theatre so that it felt like he was there with me.
I also wore a pendant with some of his ashes in which made me feel so close to him.
When my baby was handed to me, something magical happened to my heart and I felt pure love.
I named him Sebastian and from the moment he was born, I talked to him about his amazing daddy and put a photo of Chris in most rooms of the house, so that Seb would grow up knowing who his dad was.
Now Seb is now four months old and he is the image of his daddy.
I can’t wait to see who he becomes and if he has his daddy’s personality.
I may have another joker on my hands.
I have four frozen embryos and I hope to have another baby one day, and, in the meantime, I have started helping other women going through what I did by sharing my journey on Instagram.
I want more people to know that freezing sperm is an option when someone is undergoing cancer treatment.
I’m so glad I took that route as it enabled me to fulfil Chris’s wish, and it gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for – my angel baby.
Follow Lauren’s journey on her Instagram @lifeafterdeath_withivf
Terms and conditions: The prize draw closes at midnight on 30th July 2024. This prize draw is open to UK residents aged 16 and over. There is one prize of £50 to be won. The winner will be the first person drawn at random from all valid entries after the closing date and notified by email within 10 days of the competition closing and will need to provide further details for the prize payment to be made. The winner has 30 days to respond before an alternative winner is chosen. No purchase is necessary. Full terms and conditions can be found at www.bauerlegal.co.uk/competition-terms.ht