A year ago I would tell anyone that would listen that it was my dream to have twins. One pregnancy and bang – all done. Half of the people agreed and the other half laughed at me. All of them figured it was a pipe dream.
When it happened no one could believe it. On the way to my first scan all I could think about was seeing a heartbeat. I joked about seeing heartbeatS but I didn’t really dare to think that I’d be that fortunate. But I was. I’d hit the jackpot. I hit it again last week when I found out that I’m pregnant with a girl and a boy. The ‘perfect family’ (not my words). Before you know the gender people always ask what you would prefer. I would always just say healthy babies, but that’s a pretty cliched response. The truth is, I never let myself think on it too much for fear of jinxing the luck I’ve had so far. But when I saw that scan I realised that it really couldn’t get any better.
Ever since this pregnancy reached the 12-week ‘safe stage’ I’ve thought about how incredibly lucky I am on a daily basis. I used to say that I don’t really believe in luck. Outside the family you are born to, you make your own luck. But I’m rethinking that.
Last week one of my best friends lost his mother suddenly and unexpectedly. It happens, sure, but it’s easy to take life for granted if you’re not occasionally confronted with mortality. Two days ago another friend fell from a balcony and is now fighting for his life. At best, he faces a future with severe brain damage. My heart breaks for him and his family, and it’s a real reminder of just how really, really fortunate I am.
If I believed in a god I’d be thanking it.