A baby. Really?

Being a 'mature' mother.

A mature mother. If you're over 35 when you have your baby here in the UK it's called an "advanced maternal age" pregnancy.

Great. 😩

I was already feeling inadequate. It had taken me a long time to get pregnant (and a lot of endometriosis appointments at the hospital waiting for the gynecologist consultant in the same department where excited expectant parents enjoyed their ante-natal scans...😡).

The NHS lacked empathy there.

Then he arrived. A boy. An amazing boy. 👶

That warm dependent body.

That newly created person who demanded so much of me.

I've never been so tired.

It was hard to make sense of the love I felt for him.

I'd die for him.

He looked at me with such trust. Such expectation.

I lost myself for a while.

He grew. In front of our eyes.

He's strong and capable and clever.

I really can't believe I grew him inside me, gave birth to him and nurtured him.

I have nothing I'm more proud of in life.