In February of this year, I turned 23; the age my mother was when she had me. The thought of me having a baby now seems ludicrous but, of course, my mum’s generation experienced their twenties in a very different time to those of us that are in them now.
Although my timing will inevitably be different to the way my mum did things, I know that someday I will want children of my own. Being a mother is something that I’ve always felt I was destined for and (providing I am fortunate enough to be able to do so) is an exciting part of my future that I find myself daydreaming about every now and then, on the drive to work, or when I pass a mother and her child in the supermarket.