Sitting on the sofa with our daughter, 5, and 2-year-old son, my husband Jimmy, then 26, and I couldn’t wait to share the big news.
‘You’re going to have a baby brother or sister,’ I announced, smiling.
It was July 1968 and my heart swelled as they squealed with delight.
Just like the other times, I sailed through pregnancy with no complications.
Then, in January 1969, close to my due date, I rubbed my belly.
‘Come on, baby. Give us a kick,’ I cooed.
Realised I hadn’t felt it moving for a few days.
I went to see the doctor, who told me that he could hear a heartbeat.
‘I’m not sure if it’s the
