I did the test on a hot summer evening between Friday-night work drinks and a friend’s birthday dinner. It wasn’t supposed to be positive. I’d bought a home pregnancy test to quiet the nagging unease I felt in my gut. The plan was to take the test, breathe a sigh of relief and then head back out the door, back to carefree socialising and chilled champagne.
There was no sigh of relief. Instead, there was rising panic. My boyfriend (now husband), D, stood next to me; we watched as two lines appeared on the stick. I was pregnant. There was a bit of swearing (from me) and stunned silence (from him). Somehow, we still made it to my friend’s birthday dinner – but there was no champagne for me.