Do you believe in parallel universes? Where all the other options that might have been our life play out in their entirety? It’s an absorbing idea and one I’ll indulge in the coming days as an indelible date marks seven years since one reality, packed full of half-imagined future, became irrevocably reversed. My firstborn was almost one and a half when we found out she was going to have a brother or sister. She was a wonderfully easygoing baby and eighteen months in on life’s parental odyssey, K and I were looking forward to continuing the warm and fuzzies with an extra player. My second pregnancy started like my first, unobtrusive – a little fatigue, nothing more. Playing it by the book, we waited for twelve weeks to pass before excitedly sharing our secret with the world outside. Phonecalls and emails passed to and fro between parents and siblings, and work colleagues and friends beamed along with us. We were bathed in bliss, insulated by good fortune – life was good.