Today is my due date. It seems strange to think that had I continued to decline the induction, these little creatures should still be inside me.
I used to feel quite strange about the idea of inducing their birth date. I’m not superstitious but it was important to me that they came on the date that they were meant to come. I wanted them to decide for themselves whether to be October or November babies, and I had a hope that one would be born before midnight and one after, so they would have completely different birthdays.
But I had an induction and then a caesarean section, so their date of birth will forever be the one that we assigned to them. 30th October. They will always be almost-Halloween children.
I miss being pregnant. I miss feeling kicks and hiccups, and waking up at ridiculous o’ clock to carb-load. I miss daydreaming and chattering with my partner about who they would be, these little people, what they would look like, whose features they might assume. It was a magical time for us.
But this? The last ten and a half days of being a mother have been wonderful. I’m glad to have had these days. I’m glad to have known them when they were tiny and newer than they should have been, to have shared with Kirsty the exact experiences that we have had.
November 11th will always be a special date for me – my twins’ due date. But their birth date will be even more so. And every new day holds bright new possibilities, further opportunities for discovering more about these tiny people that we made.
I’m so glad that we decided to do this.