**Diary Entry 12th May**
*”You had a child at nearly 50? What were you thinking?”* My family spat down the phone.
Im 46. A month ago, I gave birth to twinsa boy named Arthur and a girl named Evelyn. Words fail me when I look at them. Happiness, joy, tears, warmth swelling inside me until I could burst.
Yet neither my mother nor my sister came to the hospital. My husbands relatives ignored the birth tooall because of our age.
I never thought much about children, truth be told. In my youth, I lived carefreenights out clubbing in Manchester, cocktails, admirers. My heart sang.
Then, at 22, I met Oliver. Handsome, bearded, glasses, quick with a joke. Women flocked to him, but he chose *me*. Flattered? Absolutely. He had a flat in London, a car, a family businesshis parents owned high-street clothing shops.
I thought Id found my knight in shining armour. Oliver was my ticket to an easy life. I dreamed of a white wedding, honeymooning in Spain.
But to him, it wasnt serious. After a month at his place, he changed the locks while I was getting my nails done. His parting words? *”Were from different worlds. Youre not the one.”* As if I were some mismatched shoe.
The heartbreak wrecked me. Lost two stone, looked like a ghost. My hair fell out; I wore wigs or scarves. My health sufferedsudden weight loss wrecked my system. Surgeries, pills, even herbal remedies. Nothing worked.
So I threw myself into work. Loved painting nails, trained as a manicurist. Clients flocked in, paid well. Took a mortgage on a modest two-bed in Bristol, saved for a car. By 33, I opened my own salon. Hired bright girls, built something.
Then, two years ago, I met David. Ran a shop nearby, popped in once to break a £20 note. Love struck fast. We moved in together, married, tried for children.
Nothing. Our age was against us. So we turned to IVF. I prayed every night*Let me be a mother. Let me do this right.*
And He listened. I delivered two healthy babies. Labour was smooth, no complications.
*”Have you lost your mind? Children at your age? Did you even think?”* My mother screeched.
*”Good Lord, Ill be a grandmother soon, and youre having babies? Youre too old for this!”* My sister hissed.
Not a single relative stood by us. At the hospital, only David and a photographer waited. We took a few keepsake pictures, then drove home.
The twins are a month old now. Mum and sis refuse to visit. Say Ive shamed them before the whole town.
But is it wrong to want a family? Is that really a sin?
**Lesson:** Happiness isnt bound by age or approval. Sometimes, the truest joy comes from defying expectationsand holding your own miracles close.
