It was a routine antenatal appointment with many weeks still to go until the birth. “Things aren’t quite as we’d hope,” said the midwife, a worried look on her face. “You need to go straight to hospital.”
The date was 8 April 1992. But also, it was 1 August 2024. The bump in 1992 was mine; the baby, who would be born the following day, at 29 weeks’ gestation (“term” is 40 weeks) was my daughter Rosie. The bump in 2024 was hers: 32 years on, history was repeating itself.
