Becoming pregnant at 22, I can wholeheartedly say it was planned. He was planned. Yes, planned as in we came off contraception. No, as in we got pregnant straight away then he decided to arrive nearly four weeks early.

I had just started maternity leave then in the middle of the night my waters broke. We went to the hospital after checking with the midwives that I should come in, I was going to go back to sleep until the hubby persisted I ring first. The hospital didn’t believe I was in labour at first – “are you sure you didn’t wet the bed?” After, a huge hand was placed ‘up there’ to check I was 100% in labour and 4cm dilated. The contractions started about half an hour after I woke, slowly at first on the way to the hospital. That was number 1 of a million reasons the hospital pissed me of and I shall NEVER go there again. From that to not turning the incubator on when my little one arrived then setting it too high to forgetting to send off numerous blood samples and talking to me with such disrespect.

My, our, start to parenthood wasn’t the best.  But we were there, mummy, daddy and little baby boy. 8 long days later we arrived home and then the real fun began. A crazy little home.

Our house we bought just over a year before the baby arrived, a dog came shortly after we found out we were pregnant and she took the craziness to a whole new level. When baby was born she went even more bonkers, protective and lovely but bloody annoying.

So, flash forward to a 22 month old toddlers, a very clever butt mischievous little boy, aren’t all boys? A still not so little excited doggy. A grumpier, chubbier mummy and daddy and a rounder tummy as baby number 2 is on his/her way in 19 weeks time (or less if they copy their older brother).

My mum and dad are even more amazing as grandparents than I thought they would be. My brothers are such good uncles which I didn’t expect as much. Hubby’s family, well, it’s a long story, they lived up to expectations of not giving a shit but completely faking on social media that they do – you know the type. 

I’m 25 now, how did that happen? Hubby is creeping up to his mid 30’s. We’re happy. We always want more money, who doesn’t. We have to watch money sometimes and not splurge, we takeaway way too much (for us two not the toddler!) and I admit I am a shopping addict like mum. Although not for myself, more for my babies! We’re still as madly in love as we were nearly seven years ago, we still argue, moan, swear (when toddler isn’t around), cuddle, kiss.

We are happy and I wouldn’t have life any other way (again minus the money situation, more money leads to a new house!)

A second baby. Ok. I’m shitting it. No sleep when the baby sleeps, I’ll be busy making sure toddlers getting the attention at them moments. I am so excited yet so nervous, a million different emotions going on but truly I couldn’t be happier. Lack of sleep will get to us, but we will win. The four of us against the world.

Me and hubby met in a pub, seven years ago, we moved in together quickly, said I love you very quickly. We got engaged two years later, rented a house for a couple years then bought our own first home together. We’ve had five jobs between us in that time, five cars, a hell of a lot of arguments and a ton of sex (which is getting less and less by each passing week).

I never planned on meeting my forever guy at 18, it just happened. I never thought he’d be nearly 10 years older than me or I’d get married at 22 (a few months before we got pregnant). 

Written by Lucy A.