Two months after we found out I was pregnant, my boyfriend and I moved into our own house. We had only been together for five months.
We argued, a lot. It was difficult to suddenly live with someone you barely know, with the knowledge that you’re also going to soon become parents lingering in the back of your mind. But we plodded on, we stuck with it. Determined to make it work.
My pregnancy was easy and uncomplicated, I barely even felt pregnant. We found out we were having a little girl, a daughter, and we were overjoyed. I still remember so vividly lying on the bed with cold jelly on my stomach, the ultrasound technician saying, ‘Three little white lines. It’s a girl!’
Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. And, suddenly, it was August and our daughter was due.
