Little Tiny Treacle, Meet Little Baby Bean

24 hours later: The night Fats told me she was pregnant.

24 hours later: The night Fats told me she was pregnant.

The next day was Halloween and we turned up at Fats and Coates’ house ready to watch scary movies and eat pizza.

The previous evening had been a special one. After leaving Fats, I’d picked up Dan and we’d turned up at my parents’ house, ready to deliver the news that they – particularly mum (aka Goose – mother Goose – in our family) – had been waiting patiently (or not so patiently in Goose’s case) for. I’d flirted with several different ways of delivering the news, and had settled upon buying mum a Links of London pram charm, with a little note inside the box saying ‘You’ll be needing a real one of these soon’ and ‘Little Tiny Treacle: Due June 2015’.

So, before I continue, let me explain Little Tiny Treacle. Ever since Dan and I got together at University in 2003, he’s called me Treacle, or more specifically, Little Treacle. I’m 5”2 to his 6”2, so naturally, he became Big Treacle, although just Treacle really. As soon as I got that positive result, I knew that my little plus-one would be called Little Tiny Treacle, or LTT for short.

It took about ten minutes to convince mum that we weren’t playing with her, and that I was honestly, genuinely, really, not joking, 100% pregnant, and when she finally let herself believe it, she was, as predicted, over the moon. My dad, a man of very few words, said, well, very few words, but his quiet smile and sparkling eyes gave him away.

So, there we are, sat in Fats’ lounge on Halloween and she presents me with a Chanel gift bag, saying that she wanted to get Little Tiny Treacle a little something. Inside were three positive pregnancy tests, the exact amount I’d presented to her just 24 hours ago. Had I left them at her house? I hadn’t. So what were these?

My mouth dropped open and I looked up at her. Her eyes were wide and Coates was grinning. “Yep,” she confirmed. “They’re yours?” I asked slowly, almost scared that I’d put two and two together and gotten five. She nodded. I can’t really remember what happened next; certainly a concoction of screams, hugs, cries of disbelief, laughter and uncontained joy.

“Aren’t we so superb?” Fats squealed, “even our ovaries are in sync”. Fats had taken a pregnancy test that very morning, the night after hearing my news, and another, and another, with all three showing positive. “We’re unbelievable,” I said.

It was just so good to see Fats and Coates so happy. It certainly wasn’t without some trepidation; with Fats’ past experience and her conditions which are known for causing problems with fertility, they were – understandably – being cautious. As was I. But we wouldn’t let that get in the way of indulging in the moment. And I certainly didn’t want to underplay this – Fats was pregnant, and what would be would be, but in the here and now, that needed celebrating. That Little Baby Bean (LBB, the nickname Fats and Coates gave to their newest addition) needed celebrating.

We talked about how we’d both break the news to Stel as soon as she returned from her week residential work trip, and we planned how to announce our miracle to our parents – who like, us, are great friends. But for now, the four of us would guard our incredible, magical secret.

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