Note: I’d like to preface this article by warning anyone who has experienced fertility issues that it may be triggering. I’d also like to apologise to anyone who identifies as non-binary for discussing gender in such a conventional, closed manner; please bear in mind that this is written through the lens of my own lived experience.
Almost a year ago today, on my birthday last year, Luke and I were sitting on the rocks at Gordon’s Bay, watching the sunset over the ocean, while we sipped Bollinger straight from the bottle. I had packed some crystal glasses to make the experience nicer but proceeded to break them straight away.
It was here that we decided we were ready to start a family.
Not straight away, but we knew it was something that we would aim for in 2022. We discussed our future through rose-tinted glasses and champagne blurred unrealistic notions of parenthood, while we promised each other a few things that we both needed to take this next step.
I knew we’d be having a little girl.
It’s all I wanted. One baby. One little girl.
Watch: Be a good mum. Post continues below.
While I’d always loved baby girls, it was the birth and bond with my niece, Evie, that really cemented that it was exactly what I wanted. Despite her being potentially the worst baby in the world (sorry Evelyn if you ever read this, but you really were).
Due to a bunch of different circumstances, I was surprised when I realised I was pregnant. As was almost every single one of my friends and family, which you can see here: