I’m no longer a child. Last night, snuggling in bed with Josh, excitedly discussing the adventures that await us in our life, I told him that I realise that I would die for my family. I would throw myself in front of a moving car to save April. No question.
Having a family has been the most profoundly life-altering experience in my 26 years. Even while I was still pregnant I still felt like a kid. But now I’m a mother. I’m a mother with a fierce maternal instinct. I am a woman.
I believe I may be the happiest person in the world. Actually, I hope that I’m not. I hope that there are countless people out there who are just as happy as I am. If you had asked me ten years ago what I would have to achieve in my life to really feel that I had arrived, I doubt my answer would be “Have a baby.” But here I am. I have a beautiful, hilarious, stubborn, inquisitive little person in my care. I have a generous, kind, curious, enthusiastic partner. I want for nothing. My life rocks.