B is for Becky (who is pregnant)

Here's the story so far: Six (ish- time is too hard to keep track of) weeks ago I got married to my lovely husband. I took two weeks off work, one of which was spent in sunny Santorini and when I came back I found out I was pregnant.


Obviously that's not the whole story; there's the part about meeting, quite classily, in a club on Brighton beach almost exactly 5 years before we got married. We had one date and knew J was 'the one' instantly because we had the same fascination with the pub loos (they are fantastic loos) and because he didn't min too much that I ignored all my friends' advice and went home with him after the first date.


There's also the part about J wanting a baby (with me) from the word go and me, at the time a highly dedicated law student, being aghast at the prospect of having kids before 35.

 Then, there's the part where, last year, after expecting a marriage proposal for about six months, I screamed the place down because 'I want to be married before I have a baby and I want a baby effing soon!'

We agreed we'd wait until after the wedding before we had a 'serious conversation' about when the right time to start a family might be. Then, when my beloved Nan was diagnosed with cancer in October and deteriorated more rapidly then any of us thought was possible, before  passing away four weeks later, I realised what was important. It was like a lightening bolt.  The people in your life are the most important thing. Not your bank balance. Not your job title. Not how many degrees you have (I should know- I technically have three). Family and friends are what really matter.

I came off the pill and the timing could not have been more perfect. The last few months have been like a whirlwind and we're ready to set off on our next adventure.