Sally Peach, 39, a former legal adviser, lives near Nottingham with her husband David, 50, a team leader for a construction company, and has four children, Olivia, 21, Bradley, 18, Alfie, 12, and Luca, one. Sally says:
Nervously waiting in hospital for my 12-week scan, my mind was full of concern for my baby. Then my phone rang. It was my 19-year-old daughter, Olivia — and she had shocking news.
Bonding over babies: Sally Peach, left, with Luca and her daughter Olivia with her son Morgan
Not only was I an expectant mother, but I was going to be a grandmother, too. I wept happy tears when I heard the excitement in her voice. The pregnancy test she’d taken at home was positive and she’d called me even before her husband, Richie.
‘This is the happiest moment of my life, Mum,’ she sobbed. ‘I’d given up hope this could happen to me.’
Olivia had always dreamed of having a baby but, at 18, she’d been told that because of a serious gynaecological condition, it would be impossible for her to conceive.
She’d taken the news so badly I hadn’t told her I was trying for a fourth baby. So, when I found out I was pregnant, my first thought was: ‘How on earth will I tell Olivia?’
I was in tears when I phoned her, and with good reason. I knew my daughter and how much it would devastate her. Sure enough, it did.
She started sobbing, but after a few minutes started trying to congratulate me. Hearing my darling girl putting on a brave face made me feel even worse.
'Not only was I an expectant mother, but I was going to be a grandmother, too'
So,
when she called to say that she, too, was pregnant, I confess that my
tears of happiness were also mixed with ones of sheer relief. My guilt at falling pregnant slipped away only at that moment. But it was immediately replaced by a maelstrom of other horrible emotions.
There was a moment of shame: would people judge us for being a mother and daughter pregnant at the same time? Would they write us off as lower class?
We’re not: I’ve got a law degree and live in a beautiful detached house in a pretty country village, and Olivia has ten GCSEs.
It was upsetting to think people might start making false assumptions about us.
The thought of the two roles I would be expected to fulfil also overwhelmed me. Olivia would be looking to me as her mother for help and guidance.
How would I be able to support her emotionally and physically when I was struggling with morning sickness and tiredness myself?
I’d always dreamed of being a hands-on grandmother, but it was going to be impossible to devote time to Olivia and her baby when my own child would need me more.
Then came practical concerns. Olivia was still living at home with me. Where could we possibly keep two buggies, two cots, two of everything?
Perhaps it was selfish, but what if my baby was ignored because of another newborn in the family? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
My mother, who had passed away eight years earlier, had been an amazing help when I had my first three children. I was studying for my degree, so she had them round for sleepovers and would bake with them and read them stories.
Double bubble: Mother and daughter show off
their baby bumps. Olivia had always dreamed of having a baby but, at 18,
she¿d been told that because of a serious gynaecological condition, it
would be impossible for her to conceive
I’d hoped for an equally close relationship with my grandchildren, but feared it wouldn’t happen as I’d be busy looking after my new baby.
However, my husband David and Olivia’s brothers Bradley and Alfie weren’t perturbed at the prospect of having a sibling and nephew at the same time and in the same house — they were just excited.
I tried my best to put my worries to one side. Surely we would muddle through. Our next difficulties were down to the fact we had very different pregnancies.
Mine was smooth — I breezed through it — but Olivia’s was horrendous. Like the Duchess of Cambridge, she suffered from hyperemesis (severe morning sickness) and had to be hospitalised several times.
As I sat at her bedside holding her hand, she looked so forlorn and weak that I felt yet more guilt for sauntering through my fourth pregnancy.
This was supposed to be a special time for her, yet it must have been so upsetting to be so unwell.
I felt more tensions emerge as other people reacted to our happy news. I couldn’t help but feel that Olivia was being overshadowed by me.
Sally Peach with daughter Olivia as a baby
But there was little I could do about friends and family who made more of a fuss about my pregnancy — my first in 12 years — than my daughter’s.
I can’t imagine how it must have felt to have your own mother steal your thunder.
That said, we shared fantastic times as we clocked up the pregnancy milestones. I remember my 20-week scan with Olivia at my side, genuinely excited for me and then, two months later, it was my turn to be excited for her.
And to discover that we were both having boys was just incredible.
But two pregnant women living under one roof was explosive at times, especially towards the end when we were both huge, hormonal and feeling fed up.
We started bickering about trivial things, arguing over who had done the housework and then not talking to one another for days.
It was the best thing for both of us when Olivia moved out to live with Richie the week before I gave birth. The tension immediately eased and we became our happy selves once more.
My son, Luca, was born at Nottingham City Hospital in January 2013, with my husband by my side. Then nine weeks later, I was back in the same delivery suite with Olivia and Richie as my grandson, Morgan, was born.
I’d been determined to be there for Olivia at the birth, but that meant leaving my own baby in the middle of the night. While I stayed with her through the labour, I had to race back straight after Morgan was born.
That was very hard. I felt cheated out of spending those first precious hours with my grandson, but I was torn, knowing I had to put my own baby first.
Because Olivia was such a young mother, one of my biggest concerns had been that when our babies were born I’d end up acting as a mother to both of them.
Somehow that hasn’t happened, and I can clearly distinguish my love for Luca as his mother, my love for Olivia as my daughter and my love for Morgan as my grandson. I adore each of them in very different ways.
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