Ten years after my husband threw me out in the rain while I was carrying his twins, I watched him tell a television audience that his one regret was never having children.

About thirty dollars of it went across wet paving. And I got down and picked up four notes of it, in the rain, because I did not have the bus fare.

"Take it. Get out. Don't come near me again."

I have had the sound of that voice in my head for eleven years. Not the words. The disgust underneath them.

I was eight weeks pregnant with twins and I did not know it yet. I found out on the fourth of November, at twenty past four in the afternoon, in a clinic on Carrow Road, on my own.

They told me it was two at the same appointment.

And then I had that pregnancy on my own in a flat above a shop in Carrow, with the sickness that does not stop at twelve weeks, and four appointments where nobody came in with me.

Oskar and Lilja were born on the eleventh of June, 2015.