Just under four months ago I found out that I had the beginnings of a new little life growing inside me. This teeny-tiny person – now the size of a turnip – who I’ll soon call my son or daughter came into my life when I was least expecting it but at a time when, I believe, I needed them more than ever.
Becoming a mother at 25 wasn’t part of my plan – in fact I’ve always been so career driven, so focused on getting the house, getting the guy, being successful and then having a baby. But, I guess, life never goes the way you plan – there will always be a detour somewhere along the track – and sometimes the universe knows what you need before you do.
And, so, on the 21st of February 2018, two little lines appeared on a stick – six sticks, actually. I took six pregnancy tests – and I felt the blood drain from my face as I whispered the word ‘SHIT’ to myself. All these thoughts flashed through my mind: ‘I can’t be a mum, I still have so much I want to do.’ ‘I live in London, how can I raise a child on my own?’ ‘This isn’t happening to me.’
My grandparents had even joked about how I was going to be the last grandchild to have a baby because I was ‘living the high life in London, too focused on getting my next big exclusive.’ In fact, I’d always told people that I’d be well into my 30s before I’d even consider children.
I was writing a book, I was about to relaunch my blog, I was about to get a new flash flat with my best mate and we’d been discussing where we were going on a sun-soaked holiday this year.
I loved my life – at least I thought I did.
I’d go to work during the week, go out at the weekend (I wasn’t a big drinker but I loved getting dressed up and going for a dance or demolishing a fancy meal with my mates) and I had a sweet little flat in North West London that I lived in with my two bunnies, Jack and Lola.
I spent two weeks going back and forth over whether I was going to continue with this pregnancy or not. For those two weeks I spent every night sobbing into a snotty tissue trying to work out how this had happened to me. I was convinced there was so much stuff I still wanted to do before I had a child but when I really thought about it, I realised I’d actually already done most of it. I’ve been a qualified journalist for over six years now, I’ve got a good job at a well-known international company, I’ve travelled Australia and I’ve lived on my own in London for two years.
What more did I want to do? Go on a few more holidays? Date some more guys and have careless sex? (Let’s be honest, that got me into this mess in the first place), go to a few more festivals? Spend my money on things I really don’t need to buy?
I was also raised a Roman Catholic so abortion is something I’ve always been against. I’d always think a tiny bit less of people who had terminated their pregnancies just because they’d got carried away during their sweaty sex session and couldn’t face up to the consequences…
I felt like a total hypocrite just thinking about ending my pregnancy. But I now realise how closed my mind was and I will never again judge someone based on a decision they’ve made in life.
Anyway, after a lot of toing and froing, I’d made up my mind. I was going to keep my baby. Sure, I didn’t really like the thought of being a single mum at 25 but I have a successful career, I make my own money, I have a very supportive family and I have dreams that I WILL still achieve.
Pregnancy thus far hasn’t been easy for me. I spent the first 16 weeks with my head down a toilet 20-30 times a day, I’ve been prodded with needles in muscles I didn’t even know I had, I almost died three times and I dropped two stone in weight (thanks again, hyperemesis).
But now that I’m over the worst of it (I hope), I would do it all again for my precious angel baby. This tiny human that decides to wake up and kick me when I’m trying to sleep at night has already changed my life in more ways than I ever imagined.
I never knew it was possible to love someone so much you’ve never met. My cub and I have already been through so much together and we’ve still got so much more to come. Motherhood, for me, started the day I found out I was pregnant and it’ll be a journey that I’ll document on here over the next five months until, finally, I will get to hold my beautiful baby in my arms.