The Two Pink Lines

For us, starting a family was a no-brainer.  Babies and children fascinate me!   At most family get-togethers, I can be found entertaining the kiddies in the corner.  I love the fact that their brains are like sponges – absorbing everything you tell them, so innocent (mostly) and great fun.  (And lots of hard work, I should probably add).  Reflecting on this now, it’s probably because they allow me to embrace my inner child!

We found out I was pregnant just before we flew to India for one of our dear friends incredible wedding.  The whole holiday was spent flying high on cloud 9.  It’s funny, as soon as you see those two pink lines, you start seeing everything that ‘could’ be.  I was only 4 or 5 weeks pregnant, but I was already obsessed by those websites/apps that tell you the size of your baby and the corresponding seed/fruit/vegetable.  I would forward through the weeks in excitement, imagining that little fruit inside me, growing day by day (anyone know what an Endive is?!  Apparently that’s for week 21…).  We spent days in bliss, thinking up baby names and living the wonderful naive-first-time-pregnant dream.  Isn’t it odd that despite both being Doctors, at no point, did either one of us think that our dream wouldn’t become a reality?  We knew the “1 in 4” stats, but that wasn’t going to be us.  That happens to other people, not us.

Our naive outlook was brought to an abrupt halt when I had some bleeding around 9 weeks.  I remember being at my parents, being super nauseous but being pampered and eating Masala Dosa (thanks Mummy <3 ).  I felt sick at the thought of the possibility that I might be losing my baby, and felt so angry at myself that I’d let my brain get so carried away with all the excitement.  How could I, of all people, have gotten excited before 12 weeks?!  I felt like I was failing already.  My sister looked so upset and terrified,  that I pretended to be calm and logical by reassuring everyone that we knew a miscarriage was a possibility.  But inside, I was petrified.

It was arranged that I’d be seen in the Early Pregnancy Unit the next day for a scan.  The wait seemed to be forever and by this point, I had convinced myself that our baby would have no heartbeat on the scan.  I was wrong.  There was a heartbeat, in fact there were three heartbeats.  Triplets.

I don’t think I will ever be able to describe the shock and elation we felt.  We both couldn’t believe it.  Poor Ricky’s initial reaction:  “But I only have two hands?!!?!  How will I hold them all??”.  My brain immediately went to the practicalities – we would need a bigger car (great… now Ricky will get his ruddy Estate), bigger house, WHERE ARE WE GOING TO PUT THEM ALL!? How will I hold them all?!  But really, nothing mattered, because we were having three babies.