A like In Every Way... Almost

Strangers ask me if my daughter is really mine!

- Bess Browning, Niamh Shackleton

Gripping the sides of the bed, I closed my eyes as I felt a pulling sensation below my waist.

Within seconds, the doctor held up a baby.

‘A boy!’ he beamed. I took in my son’s soft, mahogany skin, his tiny legs and arms.

But the hard work wasn’t over. It was May 2016, and I was having twins by Caesarean.

Moments later, my little girl would arrive.

I felt that same pull and breathed a sigh of relief.

Eager to see her, I peered towards the doctor.

Only, as the surgeon lifted her into the air, I gasped.

I looked around for a white woman. Surely it was her who’d given birth to this child?

Me and my hubby Femi, 44, are both from Nigeria and have dark skin – like our little boy’s.

But this baby girl’s skin was pale, her shoots of hair were blonde. She was the opposite of her brother born seconds earlier.

Staring at her, and then at the doctors, I shook my head.

‘Is that my baby?’ I asked.

‘She’s all yours,’ the doctor said.

But how? I thought.

My sister Cynthia, 46 – my birthing partner – had her mouth agape, looking from me to my daughter.

Then the doctor brought my baby closer to me, our skin tones clashing.

‘She still looks like me,’

I said noticing her plump lips and bright eyes.

And she was beautiful. I called her Kachi, her brother Kamsi.

Kamsi was already thriving. But weighing just 3lb, Kachi was less than half the size of her brother.

That wasn’t a shock. You see, while I was pregnant, doctors said she might have Down’s syndrome.

Then they’d warned she might not make it.