As I was expecting twins I'd been having fairly regular ultrasounds the whole time I was pregnant, and up until week 32 all was going well. However, at that stage it became clear that one of the twins wasn't growing at the same rate as the other, and the midwives started to get concerned.
Suddenly, I was having checks every other day and spending a lot of time on labour ward with fetal heart monitors attached. Clearly this pregnancy wasn't going to last the distance.
Just before 34 weeks I went in for a check-up and was told I wouldn't be leaving. Twin Two's blood supply was being redirected to his brain, which meant he effectively had stopped growing and they were going to whip them out.
After spending 10 very uncomfortable and cold hours on labour ward being attached to all sorts of monitors, the doctors were still dithering. They decided to wait until the following morning, so just to rebel I went into labour, and they ended up going for the C-section at 5 a.m.
Having a caesarean is weird, very weird. It was weirder because I was freezing. It was snowing outside and I was shivering so much they had to wrap me up in blankets to stop my shivers so they could insert the epidural.
It was no time before we heard the doctor say 'It's a boy,... it's another boy'. And then the babies were waved in front of our faces as they were rushed off to special care, at three pounds and a quarter, and five pounds and a half, while I was sewn up. And yes, being sewn up does feel like someone washing up in your stomach!
I was eventually wheeled down to special care for a visit at 8 p.m. that night to see our beautiful boys, Spike & Ivor. They were in special care for three weeks, but they are now strapping, healthy 21-month-old boys, and all those awful days spent watching them in an incubator seem surreal and thankfully distant.