“I found out on Father’s Day, I wanted the ground to swallow me up whole. I tried to seek any ounce of comedy and irony I could on the day I found out to soften the blow but it didn’t work. That night I laid awake staring at the ceiling whilst you slept next to me, I was racking my mind. How am I going to support this child and a partner? I’m 20-years-old, in my first year at uni and I have no job, no clue what I wanted to do as a career – and how do I tell my mum? It took months to get to terms with it and that’s when I became ill, mentally. The anxiety and stress turned me into a shell of my former confident self, and moving to London for the summer nearly tipped me over the edge.
Over time I got used to the idea and I felt a bond forming between me and my child, I’d lay on your bump and talk to bump, even without knowing if it was a boy or a girl. Then seeing our baby at the first scan when we found out we were having a boy, I cried. From that moment on I knew I loved him.
Every day until the birth, I was so stressed thinking; ‘Will he be okay? Will he be still born? What if?’. But then he came, 8-days late, safely.
The first time I held him in my arms, I can’t explain it in words because I don’t know any that accurately describe or come close to the immense feeling I felt when I first held him. I cried for days.
I love our little boy so much, he’s amazing and the best thing that ever happened to me. Although he’s partly the reason behind my anxiety, I can’t imagine and won’t imagine life without my little boy. The bond is inexplicable; I’ve never cherished something or someone so much in my life”.