‘What to expect when you’re expecting – at the same time as your sister’

Telling my older sister Emma that I was pregnant was a moment I’ll never forget. She’d visited for a cup of tea. She was pregnant too – four months by then –  and I’d started to call her Cookie Monster as she’d devour anything in sight.

But instead of a plate of Choco Leibniz, I placed a positive pregnancy test in front of her and watched as her eyes brimmed and an incredulous smile spread across her face. She was shocked to the core and we did a histrionic dance, laughing and screaming at each other.

With 14 months between us, and as our parents’ only children, we’ve always been close. But this was dramatic, uncharted territory. Aged 30 and 31 and both in the early stages of marriage, these are our first babies, and although her pregnancy was not a huge surprise, mine was a bolt from the blue.

It’s not often that I compare myself to a Kardashian sister, but there are parallels to be drawn. At the start of this year, three of the Kardashian-Jenner clan were expecting – Kim using a surrogate for baby number three, while it was reported that Khloé and Kylie may even give birth on the same day (in what would make for quite an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians).

However, as I can now testify with some authority, while there’s nothing more unifying than growing inch-by-inch, bump-to-bump alongside your sister, it also highlights some startling differences. 

I wasted no time in finding out at my 20-week scan that I’m having a girl, whereas my sister has decided to keep the sex of hers a surprise. Emma wants a natural birth  with a birthing pool, gas and air and has been reading books on hypnobirthing (self- hypnosis during labour), whereas I will welcome all the drugs in the world. Then there have been the cravings. Me: crunchy greens and yogurt. Her: biscuits and cake. 

We’re also at an impasse when it comes to names. She’s keeping her shortlist a secret to prevent the inevitable eye-rolling, teeth sucking and irritating input, whereas I’m desperate to discuss my favourites with her – but I’ve decided to withhold any and all ideas until she relents and shares hers. It’s  a classic stalemate. 

With three months separating our due dates, she has beaten me to the treasured family heirlooms locked in moss-clawed barns at our parents’ home in Suffolk. Most controversial was a Beatrix Potter children’s cupboard painted by our aunt and used by us as children. It has been offset by an offer to use her second-hand breast pump with the cost split 60:40.

But despite our differing approaches to pregnancy, birth and probably parenthood, nothing would be more terrifying than facing this new reality without her. Already, she’s been the most amazing support with kind, patient and unfailingly wise words at the ready, gleaned as her stomach swells in advance of mine.

I’ve called her day and night, worrying about everything from hospital appointments to bodily outgoings turning green (we decided it was down to pesto). There’s nothing I wouldn’t tell her or would feel silly asking. She’s never once made me feel as though I’m muscling in on something she started or that there is  a ‘right’ way to do this. 

We have a long road ahead but the past few months have reminded me why I’m so incredibly lucky to have her as a sister and, now that we live 10 minutes apart, the Beatrix Potter cupboard feels a small price to pay for the extraordinary fun we’ll have raising our children together.