Sarah Bradley
When my twin niece and nephew were born, I was overjoyed to become an aunty and full of longing to become a mother.
When they had their first Christmas and first birthdays, I celebrated with our family and thought maybe this time next year…
When I took them to the park, picked them up from nursery, watched them soak up learning like little sponges, I wondered when I might give them cousins to play with.
When they started school, I wished that I could take a first-day photo of my children.
On holiday with them and with our friends and their boys, I knew my children would have been there too, playing cricket on the beach, running into the sea, building the next generation of friendships.
When I go to the theatre with my niece, or the rugby with my nephew, I wish I could’ve bought tickets for my girl and boy to be there with us.
When we all went to see Coldplay, I imagined my two there with us, singing and swaying, wristbands in the air.
When they graduated from university this year, I thought about what my two would have studied; English or history perhaps for my girl, probably sport for my boy.
These days, I don’t long to be a mother. The love I have for and get in return from my niece and nephew is enough. But just occasionally I miss my two and I wonder…
