A Sure Thing - Twice Made, Twice Broken
That is what is was supposed to be before I knew about this whole other world of 'never were'. The feeling that we were ready, that now was the time. Simple, stop the Pill and see how it goes.
The joy that I was told we were having twins, I remember the feeling the day. Not only had I been able to get pregnant but I was so lucky, I was having twins. Two babies, an instant family. What was the worst that could happen? Then I panicked - I panicked because I realised that I would need a double pushchair, double cot, did my have enough room at home? Which reusable nappy system was easiest to use with twins (actually I still have the whole set sitting upstairs in the cupboard we don't mention/open/look at)?
What about the names for them? After all Little Sprout and Wallaby couldn't really be seen on their Birth Certificates. Italian names, Welsh names, English names, kitch names that I loved that my Husband ruled as simply old fashioned.
Looking back it makes me want to laugh at all the silliness, all the wasted time, energy, arguments. For nothing we should have just focussed on hoping we had healthy babies.
Little did I know that I would never be one of those loud Mothers pushing a pushchair proudly down the high street, so it really didn't matter because all I needed to practise was how to hide the pain, how to duck my head, turn away from those lucky Mothers, the ones that made it.
That my body had done what it was supposed to do, what it had been made for at the one and only moment in my whole life when it really mattered. But it didn't, so every other success is now cancelled out, nullified, undone by the simple fact that I didn't do the one thing that women are made to do. The one function that defines a woman from a man, aside from ironing perhaps, it failed. I failed. Not once but twice, I was given two chances and couldn't even save one of them.
My 'Sure Thing' made everything unsure, undone, unmade.........you are three weeks old today my angels and my arms are empty......
The joy that I was told we were having twins, I remember the feeling the day. Not only had I been able to get pregnant but I was so lucky, I was having twins. Two babies, an instant family. What was the worst that could happen? Then I panicked - I panicked because I realised that I would need a double pushchair, double cot, did my have enough room at home? Which reusable nappy system was easiest to use with twins (actually I still have the whole set sitting upstairs in the cupboard we don't mention/open/look at)?
What about the names for them? After all Little Sprout and Wallaby couldn't really be seen on their Birth Certificates. Italian names, Welsh names, English names, kitch names that I loved that my Husband ruled as simply old fashioned.
Looking back it makes me want to laugh at all the silliness, all the wasted time, energy, arguments. For nothing we should have just focussed on hoping we had healthy babies.
Little did I know that I would never be one of those loud Mothers pushing a pushchair proudly down the high street, so it really didn't matter because all I needed to practise was how to hide the pain, how to duck my head, turn away from those lucky Mothers, the ones that made it.
That my body had done what it was supposed to do, what it had been made for at the one and only moment in my whole life when it really mattered. But it didn't, so every other success is now cancelled out, nullified, undone by the simple fact that I didn't do the one thing that women are made to do. The one function that defines a woman from a man, aside from ironing perhaps, it failed. I failed. Not once but twice, I was given two chances and couldn't even save one of them.
My 'Sure Thing' made everything unsure, undone, unmade.........you are three weeks old today my angels and my arms are empty......
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