The News

You think the day you go for your first scan should be a joyous, celebratory day.  You read about other women brimming with hope and love and wonder, their husbands crying with happiness, the women amazed and in tears of incredulity.  You think that will happen to you.

Then it doesn't.

Instead, a bomb goes off.  After a vicious row in the car we're not even speaking.  I'm a trembling, sobbing, frightened mess and he's a raging, accusative, frightened mess.  Neither of us can reach the other right now. 

I don't know what to do.

We went for our first scan and we did not see a perfect little blob, measuring exactly on target with an absolutely perfect heartbeat.

Instead, we saw two.