Waking up, I grimaced.
‘Shane, we need to go to the hospital,’ I said looking down in terror at the spotting of blood in the bed.
As my partner Shane, then 26, and I rushed to St Vincent’s hospital, East Launceston, I tried not to panic. However flashbacks of the miscarriage I’d had before we had our son Eli, then one, gripped me.
But as the sonographer scanned me at just under 12 weeks, he smiled. ‘There’s two in there,’ he said. To go from thinking we were losing a baby to being told we had
