Rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, I pulled out a box I’d shoved to the back, not expecting to need it so soon. It was a pregnancy test. My husband Peter, then 32, and I had only just started trying for a baby, but I’d been feeling out of sorts the last few days. Several minutes later, the positive test confirmed my suspicions.
By the time Peter arrived home from a cycle ride a couple of hours later, I was flapping around the kitchen, full of nervous energy.
‘I took a test while you were out – I’m pregnant,’ I told him.
‘Gosh, this is really happening!’ he said, mirroring my strange mix of elated apprehension. ‘Are we going to be any good at this?’ he added, laughing.
We kept the news to ourselves at first, and, in January 2018, went for our 12-week scan at Stamford and Rutland Hospital. We couldn’t wait to see our baby for the first time, and it all suddenly felt so real.
Only the sonographer hesitated during the scan, and Peter stared at the screen, soon realising why.
‘Are there two in there?’ he asked.
I was carrying identical twins. Peter and I were both in shock, and felt even more overwhelmed, wondering how we’d manage.
You can read up to 3 premium stories before you subscribe to Magzter GOLD
Log in, if you are already a subscriber
Get unlimited access to thousands of curated premium stories, newspapers and 5,000+ magazines
READ THE ENTIRE ISSUE
October 26, 2020