I’ve been reflecting lately on my different expectations with regards to children that I have had throughout my life. When I was youger I always dreamt I would grow up someday and have kids. As a seven year old I always thought that happened around the twenty one year old mark. As I got older though that expectation soon faded, thankfully.

By my mid-teens, dateless (I was a bit obsessed with playing sports leaving very little attention for boys and the like) I started to think that the only way I would ever have kids was to do the whole single parent role. I was convinced that I would never find someone who I would love enough to marry and have children with, let alone someone who would have those feelings for me in return.

Then the past few years with the various men and boys I have dated I reconsidered that view and thought maybe by my late twenties or early thirties a baby wouldn’t be too far away. I guess that plan didn’t work out either.

The fact is I have always wanted kids of my own and a family of my own and I am finding this time now as a real wake-up to how lucky I am. I have a wonderfully supportive partner in Ben, a family who is ready to lend a helping hand and friends who are genuinely excited for us. So though this pregnanacy was not what I had planned, intended, dreamt or expected at any point in my life, it is exactly what I want and need now, otherwise it would never have happened.

Life has little ways of sorting itself out and surprising you, even if that does mean being pregnant.