Month One, Day Three

I always wanted children. I also always wanted a high-profile career. My life plan was like everyone else’s:

1. Do everything you have ever wanted to do.
2. Have baby.

I managed number one. I went to university, I travelled the world, I frittered away a large portion of my twenties in a Brighton gutter, I slept with inappropriate men (and women), I went back to university, I wrote a couple of novels, I published a couple of novels, I met a lovely man that even my mother approved of, I turned thirty.

I turned thirty!

Thirty.

‘I always thought I’d have my first baby when I was thirty,’ I said casually to Jack on my birthday.

‘Mmm,’ he said.

I left it at that.