You Only Live Once (20 page)

Gary quickly did my hair and make-up, and ten minutes before we were due at the chapel I put on the dress. It fitted perfectly, as did Alex’s outfit. He had already phoned up his friend John Hathaway, who was also a fighter and was out in Vegas, to ask if he would be best man. I think John was pretty surprised as he’d had no idea what we had been planning. Funnily enough, he was one of the guys I had spotted at the gym just before I met Alex, and had suggested that Sol ask along to Michelle Heaton’s birthday. The fighting world is a small one apparently . . . At the hotel chapel there was another lovely surprise when I discovered Phil had flown over to be at the wedding.

And then it was time to tie the knot! Gary and Phil walked me up the aisle to meet Alex, accompanied by the song we had chosen, Whitney Houston’s ‘I Believe in You and Me’.

I was bubbling over with happiness and excitement as we exchanged our vows. I felt really emotional and knew that this was what I wanted more than anything. The fact that it was just Alex and me, a few of our friends and the minister made it even more special because we weren’t having the wedding for anybody but us.

I couldn’t stop smiling at Alex. I, Katie Price, most certainly did want to take Alex Aristides Reid as my husband! As he gently slid the ring on to my finger it was the culmination of all I had longed for these past months. I was Mrs Reid and we belonged together now – I was his and he was mine.

Arm in arm, we walked back down the aisle to the music of ‘Ordinary People’ by John Legend. The photographer had been taking pictures of us throughout the ceremony, and he continued to take photos as our friends congratulated us and Alex and I hugged and kissed. There was no glossy magazine deal, I hadn’t wanted that. I wanted everything about this wedding to be as different as possible from my first marriage. So there was no endless posing for formal pictures. When I saw the photographs of our wedding the following day, I was struck by how incredibly happy and carefree I looked – just the way a bride is supposed to be. Alex, of course, looked very handsome. And the pictures were all so romantic, informal and natural.

I can’t help feeling that my wedding to Pete had been more like a show. I was in love with him, and wanted to marry him, but we seemed to get overtaken by the big event that our wedding became. Whereas my marriage to Alex was far more intimate and laid-back; we went with the flow. It was just about us, no one else, and it was so romantic.

We issued a press statement saying that : ‘We are very much in love and look forward to the future together. We can’t wait to get back and celebrate our marriage with our friends and family who we know fully support our wishes.’

Our wedding day was perfect, completely stress-free and happy. After the ceremony we went out to celebrate with our friends. We had dinner and then hit the Vegas night life. One of Alex’s friends owns the Sapphire Gentlemen’s Club there, which is an upmarket lapdancing place with VIP areas. It may sound tacky but it wasn’t. Back home the press slated us for our choice but we didn’t care. We were celebrating our wedding, stag and hen nights all in one go – and it was fantastic! And we were in Vegas, what else were we going to do?

Back at our five-star honeymoon suite at the Planet Hollywood, I can only say that things got even better when we spent our first night together as Mr and Mrs Reid. Put it this way, we definitely consummated our marriage in style!

We only had two more days together in Vegas, so it really was a mini-honeymoon. Alex was due to fly to India for a week to learn a new fighting technique for his show on Bravo; he would be back in the UK for ten days and then he would be off again to LA. So that made our time in Vegas even more special as we knew we would soon be spending some time apart.

Alex had to fit in some training at the gym but I didn’t mind going along and watching him. The paps, of course, did track us down, even though we had done our best to dodge them. They really are like vultures and it was pretty hard to shake them off. But we did manage it a couple of times – including our trip to go dune buggy racing when Gary and Phil went in the limo and pretended to be Alex and me, fooling all the paps into following them. The photographers twigged pretty soon but couldn’t exactly pursue us when we were racing across the desert. I loved buggy racing, of course, as I’m such a daredevil – and Alex loves that about me. Gary hated it. Said he thought it was like the worst fairground ride ever!

But all too soon we were on our way back to the UK. We had flown out as boyfriend and girlfriend and were flying back husband and wife. I felt as if we were starting a new life together.

I really do feel that Alex is the love of my life. I know people will be cynical and say, ‘Oh, yeah, we’ve heard that one before.’ And, yes, you have heard it before, because I was in love before! But who says you can’t fall in love again?

I wanted to show that this relationship was different so I decided that I would change my name to Katie Reid – except for work, where I will always be Katie Price. But the name Katie Reid would be on my passport, driving licence and cheque book, and it would be how I wanted to be known outside of work. I had of course promised Pete that I would change my name when we were married, but somehow I never got round to it as we were always flying off somewhere and I needed my passport.

Everything is different with Alex. In every other relationship I’ve had, I would never buy a house with the man. I’ve always been fiercely independent and wanted to own the house myself. I suppose I worried about what would happen if we split up and I ended up losing my home. But when we got back from Vegas I said to Alex, ‘Forget about my house, we should buy a house together.’ Having a big house no longer seemed so important to me. I was thinking of downsizing and buying a house we could both afford. I wanted us to have a joint account and for whatever we both earned to go into that account. It would be used completely equally and there would be no egos about who earned the most. I’ve never done that with any other guy before Alex.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MR AND MRS REID

Back in the UK, our family and friends were thrilled for us. Everyone who mattered to me could tell what a wonderful relationship I had with Alex and how content it made me. But the press didn’t want to believe that we were happy and that I had moved on with my life. There were stories that I had pushed Alex into marrying me just because he had won
Celebrity Big Brother
; that I saw it as a way of boosting my own popularity. There was even a story that he wanted a divorce. I thought, ‘What more can they make up? Will they end up writing that I’m dead?’

There were stories as well about how I wanted to control Alex and stop him from speaking to the media. But all I wanted to do was protect him. For instance, when he came out of the Big Brother house he did a shoot for a tabloid and the money was shit. I went along with him and there was no make-up artist. There was a stylist, though, and funnily enough it happened to be one Maddy Ford. A couple of months later it was revealed in the press that she’d had a brief fling with Pete. It’s a small world, isn’t it?

The photographer wanted Alex to lie on the bed with his shirt off in some really tacky-looking poses, and Alex didn’t have copy control which meant the tabloid could pretty much say what they liked and it would look as if he had come out with those comments. When the article came out, sure enough the journalists had twisted what he had said. So, yes, that did piss me off, because I could see that Alex was being taken advantage of. I wanted him to have the same management as me, who could protect him from these situations, and I wanted our diaries to be worked together. But in no way do I want the life I had with Pete, where we worked together all the time. I also felt that if Alex and I did interviews on our own, it would be best if neither of us went into details about our relationship.

Then a story came out claiming our marriage wasn’t legal because the minister who had conducted the ceremony wasn’t properly licensed. We immediately contacted the Wynn Hotel and they confirmed that the press story was complete rubbish and the minister was fully licensed. They also said that they’d had many other people calling them up who had got married at the Wynn by the same minister, and who had seen the story and been upset. It wasn’t just our dreams that the press were trying to shatter. Journalists should realise that there are innocent parties affected by the rubbish they try and whip up.

I had been strong so far and put up with the treatment I had received from the press since Pete walked out on me, and I was still trying hard not to let their stories get to me. I held on to the fact that I knew the truth about my relationship with Alex, I knew how in love we were. But when I saw that the press were still writing negative and untrue stories about me after my wedding, I did get really upset. I had moved on and remarried. What was wrong with that? Why couldn’t it be seen in a positive way? I felt as if I was being bullied; that I had been bullied for the last year. It was like a form of mental torture where every single thing I did was ripped apart, where nothing but lies were written about me, where I was constantly made out to be a bad person. I didn’t know how much more I could take. It was a feeling which was to get worse over the months which followed.

* * *

After my wedding I had only one thing on my mind – and that was having another baby. I had made it public knowledge that I wanted children with Alex. And now we were married, the time felt right. In fact, we had been trying for months to conceive and I felt concerned that I hadn’t got pregnant – usually I am very fertile. By April 2010 I became so worried about this that we contacted my obstetrician, Dr Gibb, who put us in touch with a fertility doctor.

I know Alex felt upset too that I hadn’t got pregnant. As I already had three children, he must have felt as if he was the one with the problem. We had a really emotional phone call one time, when he was away filming, where things had caught up with him.

‘Do you still think of me as a man when I haven’t got you pregnant? Do you love me any less?’ he asked, sounding very low. My heart went out to him then and I longed to reassure him.

‘Get this one thing straight, Alex, don’t
ever
think like that,’ I told him. ‘I love you, and I’m with you whatever happens. We will have a baby one day; we’ll do whatever it takes. We’re in this together.’

When we went to see the doctor he carried out a full series of tests on each of us. I had an HIV test, I was checked for cervical cancer, my breasts were checked for any suspicious lumps and I had various blood tests. Afterwards Alex and I were each given a clean bill of health – my only problem was low blood pressure, which I’ve always had. The tests revealed that neither of us had a fertility problem, it was simply that the sperm weren’t connecting with the egg for some reason. The doctor said that we should continue to try for a baby naturally for another year before seeking any intervention. But I wasn’t convinced. By now I knew my body very well. I knew how quickly I usually fell pregnant, and Alex and I had been trying for the last eight months. I felt we needed to help things along. Neither of us was getting any younger.

We were then put in touch with another doctor, who specialises in fertility treatment. ‘I’m the girl who wants everything yesterday,’ I told her, only half joking. I really did want a baby. Of course, we would have to pay for the fertility treatment, but at least we could start it straight away. I think it’s very tough on couples who can’t afford to pay; who have tried for several years for a baby then have to go on a waiting list for fertility treatment which could take several years more. Plus they have the added pressure of meeting all the criteria: of being the right age, the right weight. It must be so stressful that I can completely understand why some couples split up. The strain all that places on your relationship must be enormous.

The doctor booked us in to start treatment. We were having something called ICSI (Intra-cytoplasmic Sperm Injection). We had yet more tests, the results of which were all OK, and then I had to have a scan to check my ovaries were functioning healthily. According to the doctor I had some lovely eggs there, which sounded promising. She explained that ICSI has a 65 per cent success rate. While I was anxious about the treatment, given that it didn’t have a 100 per cent success rate, I thought, ‘Surely this will work as I’ve already had three children?’

There were other serious issues we needed to discuss now we were having fertility treatment. We had to go through a detailed information pack with the doctor and to sign various documents giving our consent to various procedures. One of the issues was what would happen to the embryos created by us if anything happened to me or Alex – to put it bluntly, what would happen if either of us died? Would the remaining partner be able to use those embryos by themself? I didn’t hesitate. I knew what I would want and told Alex, ‘If anything happens to me, then of course you can use the embryos. That way there can be lots of Mini-Mes after I’ve gone! The more the merrier!’

And Alex said the same.

ICSI would involve me taking hormones to stimulate egg production, the goal being to produce a good number of eggs so as to help increase the chances of having several viable embryos. For my doctor a ‘good number’ of eggs meant me producing around twelve or thirteen. The stimulation of egg production takes around two weeks and during this time I would be monitored closely using ultrasound and blood tests. Then, once the eggs were ready, the doctor would retrieve them using a needle that goes through the vaginal wall and into each follicle. This would be done under anaesthetic – which was just as well as it sounded painful! Just before my procedure took place Alex would have to provide a sperm sample. Once the eggs and sperm are ready ICSI is performed – this is when an individual sperm is selected and injected into each egg. When the embryos are formed and have started to grow, it’s time to put them back into the uterus.

For some reason I imagined that I would be taking hormone tablets to stimulate egg production, but then the doctor showed me an injection pen and the realisation dawned that I was going to have to inject the drugs. Despite all my experience of surgery, I am still needle-phobic . . . and what made this worse was that I would have to inject myself in my stomach! The doctor demonstrated the technique to Alex and all I could think was, ‘How the hell am I going to get that needle into me?’ We were going to be in Egypt on holiday during the time I would be doing the injections. The doctor told that us that it was perfect timing we were going away because that way I would be nicely relaxed. Of course, what none of us knew then was that a certain Icelandic volcano was about to erupt . . .

The doctor gave us the drugs, saying I had to inject myself at the same time every day, so we chose 6 in the evening as by then we would have come back from the pool and be chilling out in our villa before dinner . . . or panicking about doing the injection, as it turned out. After seven days I would have to introduce another sort of injection. The doctor explained that I would look bloated because my ovaries would be swelling up. That wasn’t great news. I’ve got such a small frame that anything like that would really show up on me – and I could just imagine what the press would make of it. Then I thought, ‘Stuff it! I am going to go topless on holiday. I don’t care if the paps get a shot of me. If I look as if I’ve put on weight, so what? I know why I look the way I do. And I’m at the stage in my life when I’m over thirty with three children, so of course I’m not going to look perfect. But I’m happily married and I want to have a baby. I don’t have to justify to anyone why I look the way I do.’

The doctor also gave me progesterone suppositories. These would help keep the progesterone levels high and strengthen the lining of the womb, increasing the chance of a pregnancy. I would have to take them for twelve weeks, morning and evening, along with 75 mg of aspirin.

* * *

We went away to Egypt with Harvey, and Polly and Andrew and their two boys as it was the school Easter holidays. It wasn’t a honeymoon, just a break with friends and kids. I’d wanted to take all the children, but Pete was taking Princess and Junior to Dubai. We stayed at the Hilton Sharm Dreams Resort at Sharm el-Sheikh. Until the volcano struck, it was a very relaxed holiday where we chilled by the pool and ate out. We all got on well together. I didn’t take a nanny and quickly realised that it was a good thing we had gone on holiday with another family as Alex kept up his intensive training programme and would go off and train every day. He is incredibly disciplined and focussed and trains seven days a week. I was a bit annoyed that he carried on with his usual routine, I know how committed he is to his sport but I did think he could have eased off a bit as this was supposed to be a holiday . . . But the good outweighed any negatives. Harvey had a great time – he loved swimming in the pool, and quickly got used to the new routine. One day I arranged for him to have a massage, which he absolutely loved. Alex also got to spend more time with him as there was no nanny, and grew to understand more about Harvey’s special needs and how to interact with him.

Then it was time for my first injection. Alex said that he would do it. ‘I’ll dart it in,’ he told me. ‘Let’s get it over and done quickly.’

‘You can’t do that!’ I exclaimed. ‘I know it will hurt. I’ll have to do it myself.’ So I lay on the bed, holding the needle above my stomach, trying to psych myself up. I got the tip of the needle just above my belly button. I decided that when I breathed out I would simply let the needle pierce the skin. But as I lay there, I thought, ‘Oh, God, I can’t do it!’ I felt weak and sick because I hate needles so much. I screwed my eyes shut and could feel the needle pierce my skin. I had to get on with it! So I pushed it in and then clicked the top to release the drug. Then I had to pull the needle out. I had to do everything really, really slowly. Alex told me I should do it quickly, but I said, ‘How can I do that? It will be like I’m stabbing myself!’ And I thought if I allowed him to do it to me and it hurt, I would end up having a go at him and I didn’t want to do that. It would be best if I did it myself.

The doctor had been right when she said I would get bloated – my belly blew up. When I looked in the mirror, I really didn’t like what I saw. My body seemed to have transformed itself into a weird bloated shape. I kept telling myself that this was how it had to be if I was to get pregnant. The suppositories gave me the most terrible wind as well. One night I looked at the website to see if this was normal, and thank God for websites because it seemed I was not alone. ‘Listen to this, Alex,’ I said. ‘There’s a woman here who says that usually her husband’s the main farter in the house, but now it’s her!’ Lots of other women had made comments about feeling bloated and full of wind. As I was very ladylike and didn’t fart in front of Alex, the bloating felt worse!

Then came the news of the volcanic eruption that caused a huge ash cloud and all flights were cancelled. We were due to fly back on Tuesday as I was supposed to be having a scan on Thursday. This was so the doctor could assess my ovaries and see if she needed to adjust the medication. She would be able to check how many eggs were forming and whether she needed to increase the dose of hormones I was on. As soon as I knew I couldn’t get back, I called her. She told me that the latest I could have it done would be Sunday. If I didn’t manage to fly back by then, we would have to stop the treatment and then start again in two months’ time.

Immediately I started worrying, thinking I could be going through all the stress of the injections for nothing. And, to top things off, I was also running out of medication for Harvey. But I got in touch with Great Ormond Street and a doctor there said he could go for a week without his medication and be OK. That was the absolute maximum, though, and it shouldn’t happen again, but obviously this was an emergency. I was very relieved about Harvey, but I still had the stress of not knowing whether my fertility treatment would work at all because we were stuck in Egypt and I was worrying about being able to get back in time for the scan. I was beginning to feel pessimistic, that it was fate, it wasn’t meant for me to get pregnant this time. So much for a holiday where I would be relaxed about the fertility treatment . . .