I remember approaching the door. Being welcomed into the house. The patterned victorian tiles in the hallway. A calm, serious, middle aged woman seating herself behind a desk, with chairs for me and him to sit in front. She is talking, offering some advice. She asks me to pee into a bottle in a downstairs toilet. She dips the pregnancy tests into yellow. Placing the first in front of her on the desk, then a second, just to be sure.
Two blue lines rushing across white windows. Saying YES, YES. Yes, I am here, a growing, multiplying bundle of cells. There is no denying the existence of an inner other. I am a yes, a tick, a plus, the opening of a sentence.
Some more advice and nervous smiles, then we are ushered out of the door into the autumn sunshine. A cup of tea in a cafe, a conversation, not feeling sure about anything, tearful one minute and elated the next.