The day I told my boss I was pregnant was one I wouldn't forget. His r

The day I told my boss I was pregnant was one I wouldn't forget. His reaction was so much better then I'd anticipated, I'd not been working for him that many months so expected him to be extremely cross at me. Fortunately he'd been really understanding and even went on about it cheerfully for a little while. I on the other hand couldn't get excited about it. It wasn't that I didn't want children, or that my life wasn't going OK enough to have a child, just that I didn't think I'd make a good mum, or that I would likebeing oneas much as I should do.

My pregnancypassed by smoothly, and I soon found myself on what seemed like an impossible mission to declutter the houseas well asmake it baby safe and friendly. The motor dealership I worked for also happened to do cheap local skip hire too, which was fortunate as I knew the amount of rubbish I'd managed to collect over the duration of my life so far required a rather huge one! So here I was, skip almost full, eight and half months pregnant, feeling and looking like I'd swallowed a beach ball, getting nervous and excited about the arrival of my baby. Yet still pretty sure I wouldn't be as good at motherhood as much as I should.

It wasn't long before I found myself sat in a hospital bed, feeling like I imagine being hit by a bus would feel like. My motor was totally burnt out and I could hardly keep my eyes open or my muscles working as I found myself cradling the tinybaby boythat had been growing inside me for nine longmonths. The midwives took him to the side to do some tests and checks, I could see him wriggling uncomfortably, my mind was racing with questions like 'is he ok', 'should they be doing that' and 'is that safe for my baby'. I felt surprised at how concerned and worried about him I uncontrollably was.

It soon came to the time where I was allowed to take my little bundle home. The midwives had to see proof of him having a car seat and being properly strapped into the car before I could take him home. As the midwife showed me how to secure all the straps and clips and things explaining howto makesure he wassafe in a crash I couldn't help but wonder if there actually is such a thing as a safe crash!

On arrival home I began to feel really scared,so far I'd surprised myself by how I felt about the baby and how I found things coming natural to me. But, I'd been surrounded by health care professionals. The thought of being on my own terrified me. Yet I did find the confidence to tell the local motor mouth who lived next door to mind her own when I'd barely stepped onto the pavement before she chose to give me parenting lessons. Wouldn't have been so bad but she'd never had children.

Not long after I'd got into the house and managed to turn on the radio, stick thekettle on and pop down the car seat, taking five minutes to admire my little boy in the process, I heard the news start, I listened horrified about a car crash that had involved a family of four, leaving them all including there few week old baby dead. I cried uncontrollably, I felt so much for the family, but my tears weren't just for that, mostly they were because I felt sick, devastated and heartbroken at the thought of something like that happening to my baby. It was then I realised I was going to be OK as a mum. The love I felt inside for this precious little human being was the one thing that would make me just that.