Does Colourism Exist???

A few weeks ago a friend forwarded an article from the The Guardian newspaper titled “Why dark-skinned black girls like me aren’t getting married”. I don’t remember ever wondering why dark-skinned black girls were not getting married or if in fact there was any issues with dark-skinned girls having relationships but I was reminded of the messages I received growing up including the ones I heard well into my 20s.

Although my parents did wish that I was darker (more representative of their skin tones) and actively encouraged me to sit in the garden when the sun was out, I do remember hearing (from other sources) that I would go far and had a sense that my complexion would afford me certain privileges that I may not have otherwise experience if I was darker. Sitting here today I question if I ever thought that being darker would disadvantage someone in anyway.

If I am being truly honest with myself I’d admit that I used to be more attracted to lighter skin men thinking that they were somehow more beautiful than men of a darker complexion. I guess the messages I got as a child played a big part in unconsciously forming this framework however although my levels of attraction have changed I must say that in some ways I wasn’t that surprised by what I read in the article.

Growing up I was seen as different because, within my immediate family unit I am the lightest in complexion, to the point where others would question my parentage asking if I had one white parent or if someone else was my mother because that women (a family friend) was closer to my complexion that my mother is. My younger brother even asked (when he was about 5 years old) why was I so ‘peachy brown’ when everyone else was dark. So whilst reading the article I found myself dealing with so many mixed feelings around this topic that I decided to send the article to some friends and asked what their experiences were/are around this topic. These are some of the comments from the discussion that ensued…

Disclaimer…. the following comments are from a small group of friends and do not represent the whole of the black community….

Colourism is a real thing, and I believe it exists in terms of casual dating. But in terms of darker women marrying less than lighter skinned women? No. There can be so many other factors at play.
Also, if you believe nobody wants you because you are too dark and then someone says they like dark skin women and your immediate thought is: fetish, you won’t find anyone.
People who judge your worth as a wife based on the tone of your skin colour aren’t deep people and not worth your time.”

What a sad world we live in. 😢😢 I don’t want my 2 beautiful girls to have ANY part of their lives hindered because they are “dark skinned”. 😞😞😞 Right now they don’t see it. I’d love it to stay like that.

“Growing up in the states in the 80s I can 100% say colourism was there. I was always made to feel I was too dark, especially by black people! 😳 My confidence in my complexion was not there and having a mum with a fairer complexion didn’t help. But moving to the UK I began to embrace it. It was not as bad here. Not sure why….. but if it ends with our own people then there will be more chance of it ending full stop.”

“Colourism is definitely a problem,  we may not have started it but our communities have to be the ones to address and end it. I’m glad that people are starting to talk about it. 
In the US it is worse than in the UK. African American men do predominantly go for the lighter skinned women just like the more petite or “exotic” women are preferred. I believe that darker skinned women are probably less likely to be married here. It’s sad if we look at our celebrities we see it all over. Even in Africa lighter skin is looked at as more beautiful. The question is what would it take to change it?””…. we as black people really do stereotype when it comes to the different shades.”

“Growing up I saw that a lot in Jamaica and even to this day you have black ladies bleaching their skin- as society makes it seem as if it’s more acceptable… I even had members of my family laughing at me when I’d visit Jamaica from London and would sit in the sun because my legs were too pale. When I said I needed my darker complexion back…. I was told I’m crazy”

“It’s gonna take the black community to stop hating themselves enough for others to take note.”

“I’ve seen two siblings who look exactly alike but people think the lighter complexion was more beautiful.”

“I think about the images that the media puts out there. They are the ones who set the standards of beauty. We’re conditioned to think of the European standard of beauty to be the absolute best. I can count on one hand (actually 3) dark skinned models that I know by name.”

“It’s existent even in Africa, at least in my experience. People of a lighter complexion are considered more beautiful and given more opportunities than their darker counterparts. I just wonder how all this started?

To be fair he (the white man) may have started it but we have been doing it to ourselves for a really long time

“I agree that colourism is still there and going strong even with some of the steps forward we have taken. I follow a lot of black and black hair pages on my socials but even then when I see black women like my shade or darker with my type of hair 80% of the time it’s a video of them taming their hair with copious amounts of gel to look smooth and then adding in loose curl extensions to seem like they have the attributes of their lighter skinned counterparts. Even when we have the platform we are still conforming to a “whiter and lighter” beauty standard to an extent. It started with the white man but we are allowing it to be perpetuated which allows others to think its still ok.”

“Yes it started with slavery and I believe that slavery lives on in our genetic memories and the messages that have been passed down from generation to generation. I don’t think that the cycle will break unless we acknowledge this and talk – yes it starts with us being able to discuss that and find solutions for ourselves. ‘It’s gonna take the black community to stop hating themselves enough for others to take note’ “

Reflecting on these comments and having watched a video where black women discuss politics of light and dark skin I was amazed at how much this reminded me of my own past thoughts and experiences. I am aware of the unconscious conditioning that we have experienced as a race and believe that we are (generally) accepted (by white people) because of the parameters that we fit into, whether its the way we speak, how we dress or how we wear our hair making us more acceptable (and safer) in their eyes. I have experienced white men dating black women where, the women were not necessarily of a fairer complexion but they did have a more European look that, to me, represented ‘white-ness’ and acceptance.

Personally I do not think it’s just about how we see ourselves (although important) but about how we are perceived (by white people) and what that then means for us. From my own experience and the research I’m doing (with my work around the WoC experience and infertility) black women are negatively stereotyped. I myself have been treated like I’m ‘the angry black woman in the room‘. In my 20s I was told that I would have been a house slave and that I’d get far because of my colour/ shade. I also suspect that I’m where I am (on the public forum) because of my complexion and the general ‘safeness’ that I represent. I think as a race we (men and women) need to be conscious of the generational messages that has been passed down so that we can break this cycle within our own race. If colourism plays out in our everyday lives (unconsciously or not) how much is it playing out in our personal or professional relationships? I can’t say that darker skinned black women are less likely to get married but I’m painfully aware that black women are low down on the pecking order. Even writing this blog and expressing my feelings in this way I feel like I will soon be labelled/ stereotyped as the ‘militant black woman’ but if I was a white women talking in this way I would be described as passionate about my beliefs… 😖

Fertility Fight Club

I am sitting here singing the song ‘I’ve had the time of my life’ from Dirty Dancing, as I reflect on yesterday’s Fertility Fight club. It was an amazing and rewarding experience.

I was so nervous leading up to the day. I was unsure about my speech – ‘am I saying the right thing?’, ‘what will they think about it?’, ‘will they be offended?’…. so many thoughts were running through my head. I was glad that I could practice my speech in front of my Toastmasters group before Saturday because it gave me the opportunity to refine it and settle my nerves.

I then spent Saturday morning, before heading into London, meditating and playing relaxing music and reminding myself that ‘This is me’ – now I’m singing the song from the Greatest Showman. Do you get the feeling that I like musicals???

The moment arrives… I got up on the stage at the Barbican centre – glad that I was first – and told my truth.

As a black woman, talking about black issues, you never know how you’ll be received (by both black and white people) so to hear the responses afterwards was so amazing. I felt so honoured to have been given this opportunity and to have been received in such a positive way. I have no words (just a huge smile) to describe how I am feeling today but these kind words say it all…

You can see the live stream on FB (click on FB)

For those of you not on FB you can read my talk below…


There was a time when I would have stood before you as an enslaved woman who had no control over her destiny

My body stolen, never mine, wondering if this is personal or just business

but I couldn’t speak up, I couldn’t question, I couldn’t refuse, I could not show you my tears

Enslaved women had;

                  their hopes and dreams                                                      STOLEN

                  their future                                                                          STOLEN

                  their choice to have a child                                              STOLEN

                  the choice when to have a child                                     STOLEN

                  the choice who to have a child with         STOLEN

the chance to nurture that child, watch them grow up, watch them fulfill their dreams                                                                                            STOLEN

Quite frankly I probably would have welcomed being childless back then if it meant that I didn’t have to endure the pain of your control, if it meant that I didn’t have to hide my tears

Afua Hirsch wrote in her book Brit (ish) that

There was no clean break from slavery… Britain’s act of abolition in 1807 curtailed the supply of new African blood to slave owners in the Caribbean, worsening conditions for slaves already there. Planters began to pay overseas a bonus for each female slave they impregnated…

I wonder what value I would have had to my slave owner as a childless woman?

Today I stand before you, childless, my status being met with surprise and disbelief

You see white people think that I come from a long line of strong, sassy, virile, hypersexual exotic women that do not have fertility issues

apparently ‘we breed like rabbits!’

Black men think that their super sperm will cure my condition

Black women tell me not to give up hope, to keep praying, that they will pray for me

They say that its Gods will, God know BEST

While white people call me aggressive and over sensitive

Growing up ‘Baby Mamma’s were disrespected, now as a childless woman I am pitied

But who will see my tears?

I turn to you for help but you do not hear my sorrow, you don’t seem to understand, for heavens sake you don’t even look like me

If a childless woman have no currency in society then what about the black childless women?

Fertility in black women is rarely discussed or acknowledged as a problem

Breeding myths from slavery perpetuate the stereotype that black women do not have problems conceiving

However there are studies that suggest black women may be almost twice as likely to experience infertility as white women

The Women’s Health Mag and Oprah Mag reported that only about 8 percent of black women between the ages of 25 and 44 seek medical help to get pregnant, compared to 15 percent of white women

When black women do seek medical help for fertility issues, failing to see people who look like us in leaflets, on notice boards, in your groups can further discourage us from speaking up and pursuing the help that we so desperately need

For women who look like me not having children has many layers of trauma that is hard to explain unless you have the time to listen

My voice is a voice that is rarely heard

My history reminds me of how silenced I’ve became…

  • when you asked me if I’d ever considered being a shop-keeper as a career choice
  • if I could have less plaits in my hair,
  • when you dismissed my concerns that ‘that was racist’ as being too hard to prove,
  • when you thought that I was aggressive in that meeting just because I dared to voice my opinion

When are you going to stop stereotyping me so that I can speak

When are you going to stop letting your colour-blindness and white privilege stop me from being heard

 If you don’t see my colour you don’t see my pain,

If you don’t see my colour you don’t see my challenges or the barriers I face

If you don’t see my colour when are you going to see my tears?

I convinced myself to leave my house that evening because I really wanted to hear Jody speak. I have been silent for so long now and really want to start dealing with the grief of my childlessness.

I got into my car and drove to the venue. When I eventually got out of my car and walked to the room, I looked through the window then turned around and went home because no-one in that room looked like me

This is a story I heard from a black woman grateful that she could finally talk to someone who would understand, someone who looked like her

For too long WoC have been silenced, through stereotyping and a lack of representation in the profession that is meant to support us

In her book ‘Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People about Race’ Reni Eddo-Lodge wrote that

“…If you don’t even want to see my colour and acknowledge my race how can we talk about the issues I face, how can you possible start to understand…”

Reni goes on to say “… “White privilege is a manipulating, suffocating blanket of power… bullying you into not speaking up… it scares you into silencing yourself…” “Race is essential to changing the system”

I have learnt to be careful about my battles but at the risk of being labeled the angry black women my fertility journey is one that I have had to fight

In her article for the Leadership Academy Morvia Gorden mentions that “her belief is that black people have inherited internalised oppression from 400 years of slavery as we’ve been taught that white people are better than us

Even though no living white person is responsible for slavery, BAME people still bears the scars if it…”

I am not here to play the blame game, I simply want you to understand my tears

I want you to understand that there are women like me who are often crying from what we often feel is a lack of concern or awareness of our experience as descendants of enslaved women

Black Girls Do Cry

We cry because we feel that we’ve lost our choices and that we do not have a voice

We want to be see, we want to be heard

We want you to stop stereotyping us and see us for who we are

We want you to remove your colour-blindness and see our difference

We want you to engage with us in an honest and non-defensive way

We want to have an equal place and better services for childless WoC

Yes there is more to life than children and maybe someday I can tell you about it

Infertility Doesn’t Discriminate

“Infertility Doesn’t Discriminate’, So Why Are Women Of Colour Suffering In Silence?”

After all this time I am still surprised and pleased when someone contacts me to talk because they heard an interview I’d done or because they want to interview me for a particular article. So it was a pleasure to receive Rachel Moss’s email asking if I would be interviewed for an article that she was writing for the Huffington Post. The article is about how infertility affects women of colour and is hooked to Fertility Fest at the Barbican, which I am talking at today – Fertility Fight club. So as I am preparing myself to head to the Barbican I thought that I’d take a moment to reflect and share this wonderful article by Rachel….

What do you see?

I listened to BBC Radio 4s podcast ‘Queenie’ last weekend. Queenie is the debut novel by Candice Carty-Williams, a darkly comic and unflinchingly raw depiction of a young woman trying to navigate her way in the world.

Click here to listen

I came across this purely by chance and found it throughly enjoyable and captivating. Whilst it does have that entertainment value what really struck me was the stereotyping (of Queenie a young black women trying to understand her identify) from the white men she encounters, her identity as a young black women within her own family (which plays out with the relationship she has with her parents, grandparents and friends) and within the relationships within her social circles.

For me Queenie shows the many complex unspoken layers that black women face on a daily basis, most of which are either unconscious or unspoken but all of which are very real. But that’s just my opinion have a listen and let me know what you think….

The Fertility Forum

Thanks to an invitation from Kate Brian I was on the panel at the Fertility Forum at the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists in London yesterday. The event was attended by professionals and the general public with topics that covered a range of fertility issues/ information.

I was on the session titled ‘Living without children’ with Kelly Da Silva (The Dove Cote), Lesley Pyne, Jody Day hosted by Jessica Hepburn – YES pressure, sharing a stage with Jody and Jessica!!!!

My short talk was on the WoC experience and as per usual I was worried about what I had prepared. It can be daunting when you are being provocative so I was surprised to receive an applause after I spoke as well as the warm comments after the session. I am truly looking forward to catching up with the new contacts I made yesterday.

I will be extending my run of controversy in my talk for Fertility Fight Club. If you want to hear more join me there…

International Women’s Day 2019

It was such a pleasure to be invited to talk at a local event celebrating International Women’d day yesterday. It was extra special for me because IWD in 2016 was the first time that I publicly spoke about being childless.

The day was filled with so many wonderful women sharing their stories, taking us on an emotional journey that is hard to describe – it was definitely one of those you had to be there moments.

I was asked to give an update on my journey so far to I titled my talk ‘The power of vulnerability and owning my story’. Even after all this time and the number of interviews I’ve had, I still have those nervous ‘What am I doing’ moments so it was so wonderful to have been received with hugs and tears afterwards. It was lovely to hear the words ‘Your talk was so powerful and moving’.

One thing did make me laugh though, I included a tongue in cheek joke in my talk where I said ‘… and then my miracle happened – I gave birth to my beautiful baby. My beautiful book Dreaming of a life Unlived was born – she’s so much like me!!!

A few ladies came up to me afterwards and congratulated me on having a baby in the end, they were so happy that ‘this’ happy ending came for me. One women asked me where my baby was and oddly looked at me when I told her that “it’s in my bag”. I couldn’t believe that they didn’t get it!!!

One women, who was not going to do the ‘church thing’ (her words) still said that she would pray that I still had hope. I told her that I did have hope…. the hope that I was going to have a fulfilling life without children 🙂

You can listen to the recording here and you can read the script below…

The Power of Vulnerability – Owning My Story

Maya Angelou said “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you”

At IWD in 2016 I took to the public stage, for the first time, and told the world that I was childless

OMG who told me to open my mouth???

For the first time I was allowing myself to be vulnerable and it was the beginning of me shamelessly owning my story

For those of you who don’t know, in 2014 I was unhelpfully diagnosed with ‘Unexplained Infertility’ a diagnosis that I struggled with

No one could have told me that 2 words would turn my world upside down

There were no answers, no closure, no justification – just confusion

It didn’t take long for other emotions to take over… the biggest of which was shame… the shame that I had 2 terminations in my 20s which lead me to blame myself for the situation I was in

Now we all carry baggage – it could be the size of a handbag or in some cases it can be classed as excess baggage that needs to check into the hold!

For me it was time to put my bag down, open it up and start to unpack the stuff that I believed others would judge me for

At that time I was unable to speak about this shame that impacted on my ability to grieve, which meant that I couldn’t talk about my situation  

In my head everyone would tell me that I didn’t deserve to be a mother

After joining GW (an organization supporting women who are childless by circumstance) and doing my grief work, which included

writing a letter to my younger self forgiving her for her past decisions and

writing a letter to my unborn children telling them that they were loved how  much I would have liked to have meet them

I was able to embrace this feeling of shame and reframe what it meant to me

Other women found;

  • Creating a memorial garden to honor their loss – planning something special
  • Creating a shrine somewhere private in their home
  • Spending time in nature
  • Decluttering their living space
  • Becoming part of a community (with others who shared their grief)
  • Seeing a therapist

Helped them to work with their grief

For me it was the first time I felt that I was allowed to forgive myself and it was the first time that I started to own my story, my truth and to just embrace who I am

I felt a sense of pride and strength when I shared my story

Ok so the first time I publically did this I thought that I was going to die – I was hyperventilating in the corner just before I was due to go out and speak

But I did it and

I couldn’t believe the positive responses that I received or how much I felt free

I know that not everyone will speak out in the same way that I have but being vulnerable and  sharing your story with your family or friends can be such an empowering experience

Yes it can be difficult opening up to others esp your family and friends because they don’t want to see us hurt and sometimes there is a judgment in their responses

also the downside of this can be the unhelpful advice and constant ‘don’t give up hope’……

But I persevered and then my miracle happened – I gave birth to my beautiful baby. My beautiful book Dreaming of a life Unlived was born – she’s so much like me!!!

In 2018 Jody Day – founder of GW – asked me a question. She wanted to know why black women were not connecting with her regarding being childless

This question took me by surprise because up until that point I did not consider that my race or culture had anything to do with being childless or my ability to grieve the loss of motherhood

Thinking about Jody’s question and talking to my friends I started to think about my own experiences as a black women

I realised how much of a proud family / a proud race I come from

The stories of how my parents grew up in the Caribbean and their experiences of ‘No blacks, No Irish and No dogs’ when they came to England during the Windrush period, went a long way to framing the way our parents generation functioned during this time – and the messages that they passed on to their children

I realized how much we have and continue to silence ourselves, let alone how society has silenced us

Statements such as ‘what will the neighbors think?’ and ‘don’t bring shame on the family’ told us, as children, that we have to carry ourselves differently from our white friends and show that we were better than they thought we are

I was told as a young woman that I had to work twice as hard as my white friends because I am a woman and because I am black

I somehow felt that I couldn’t show any form of weakness, I had to be strong, I had to be better

So as a race we put on our masks and live our lives keeping our problems in our suitcase

In my guest blog ‘The black woman in the room’ for Gateway Women I reflected on the situations where I felt like the angry black women in the room

The times where I felt that being the black women amongst my peers made me automatically stand out as well as feeling different and be treated differently

In my experience I have found that as a vocal and opinioned black women I would be perceived as ‘aggressive’ or ‘angry’ where my white counterparts were seen as passionate

I also learnt from my black friends that they have experiences where white people would only talk to them when they felt safe to do so or if they fit into that cultural parameter

These experiences are so subtle and very difficult to talk about and be heard or be accepted

Reflecting on my experiences and my friends stories I wonder how safe black women feel to talk to a white people about their problems

There has been occasions when we have tried to explain the racial divide, inequality, unconscious bias and discrimination, to our white colleagues, where these experiences have been dismissed as us being too sensitive or reading to much into what happened on that particular occasion

It can get tricky when you have to deal with white privilege and/ or white fragility – in some ways we have to manage their emotions too

I also found that religion can also play a role in keeping us silent which is something that I have struggled with personally

“Don’t give up Hope”, “It’s GOD’s will”, “GOD knows best”

But what does this have to do with infertility???

The Womens Health Mag and Oprah Mag surveyed more than 1,000 women and reported that;

Infertility affects at least 12 percent of all women up to the age of 44, and studies suggest Black women may be almost twice as likely to experience infertility as white women

Yet only about 8 percent of Black women between the ages of 25 and 44 seek medical help to get pregnant, compared to 15 percent of white women

Black women were more than twice as likely as white women to say that they wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about their fertility issues with friends, family, a partner, their doctor, or even a support group

“There are specific factors that affect Black women disproportionately,” Uterine fibroids and obesity, for example, are conditions that can negatively impact fertility—and Black women suffer from higher rates of both. The actress Gabrielle Union spoke out last year about adenomyosis and how this affected her ability to conceive.

When Black women do seek medical help for fertility issues, failing to see people who look like them in leaflets, on notice boards, or in waiting rooms can further discourage them from pursuing treatment

“For some women, it was their private sense of religion and spirituality that got them through,”

For others, the emphasis that the church puts on reproducing—coupled with a lack of conversation around infertility—made religious settings “painful and complicated”

The stereotype that Black women don’t have fertility issues is real, persistent and harmful

Through my research time and time again I found references to black peoples hyper-sexuality such as the

  • belief that Black women are highly fertile
  • Black people don’t struggle with infertility because Black women and men are baby-making machines,
  • In my 20s I heard that we ‘bred like rabbits’

the report even mentioned where “One of the women was recounting experiences when she was younger, and she hadn’t been sexually active yet, but a doctor assumed she’d had many, many partners and the issues she was seeking treatment for could be a result of that.”

Its almost like we are being shamed into silence which can stop us from owning our stories but without stories how can we challenge beliefs and how do we effect change???

The fixing phenonium that childless women experience can be so crippling

I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve heard…

“you shouldn’t feel like that”,

“but you have a good job”

“have you tried the latest treatment that I read about last week?”

“don’t give up hope, look at Janet Jackson”

“I know someone who was told she had unexplained infertility and she now has 3 children”

“have you thought about adoption?”

The difficulty with these situations is that it can diminish our pain, which can then drive a wedge between family and friends

Our pain is just as valid as it is for others so why shouldn’t our stories be heard? Without our stories our voices are missing from society.

Jody Day mentioned in her TED talk that – “Pronatalism makes us believe that the only way to be an adult is to be a parent, which then makes it hard for us to claim our identity”

To further quote Jody “change happens one story at a time, one women at a time. This starts a chain reaction that breaks the shame and taboos”

We feel less alone, less silenced and less shamed

Owning our stories will bring the richness back into our lives and allow us to reclaim our existence

I have come so far since 2014, having the courage to stand up and speak out has led me to be interviewed on a number of platforms both here and around the world including

                  BBC radio 4s Women’s Hour – Jenny Murray

I am a trained facilitator for the GW Reignite Weekend workshop and ran the first ever WoC Reignite workshop in 2018

I am an ambassador for the We are Worthy summit and took part in Fertility Fest last year

I have lost count of the number of WoC who have contacted me telling me that they have turned away from the GW on-line forum or have walked away from an event because they didn’t see other women that looked like them

These women wanted someone to talk too, someone who looks like them, who will listen and understand

They wanted to thank me for my honesty and authenticity

I hear from white women who want to too want to learn

It has been such a privilege to be accepted in this way and to create a space where not only mine but other women’s stories can be heard

So what’s next?

I am in the process of re-designing the format of the WoC Reignite workshop to better cater for WoC

I am taking part in Fertility Fest 2019 at the Barbican Center;

                  27 April – Fertility Fight Club- There is more to life than children

1 May – Race and Reproduction panel discussion

they say that I am the leading voice on the childless experience of women of colour

I am also doing further research on why WoC do not talk which includes understanding how

Generational Trauma and Post Traumatic Slave Disorder. I am interested on how these impact on our ability to trust others of a different race

Brene Brown talks about the courage to be vulnerable and in her research found that vulnerability makes you beautiful and is the birthplace of joy, belonging and creativity

Brene said, “When we deny the story it defines us. When we own the story we can write a brave new ending

I have now put down my case and am stepping into my brave new ending

I have something to tell you…

A friend of mine recently told me that she is pregnant. The wonderful thing about this was that she took the time to consider my feelings about her news. She has read my book and is sensitive to what I have been through (especially as she has friends in the same situation as me) and told me that she wanted me to know before she started announcing her news to others. She did consider not telling me, to spare me the heartache, but did not feel that this the right thing to do. She wanted me to know. She asked me if there was anything that she could do (to help me with my grief) during this time.

There was a time when the words “I am pregnant” would have left me in floods of tears. Now although I still feel a pang of sadness, it’s so small now that I barely notice it. But what I really appreciated was the care and consideration that was taken towards me and my feelings from someone who really valued me. Its funny, I am more emotional writing this blog (thinking about what my friend did for me) than I was hearing the news but I think it’s because I realise how much this person cares and I am so touched by her actions. Yes she could have hid the news to spare my feelings, something that I have been through before, but she took the time to make sure that I was ok, which meant the world to me.

I cannot sit here and honestly say that I will be ok over the next 7+ months, I just do not know. I wonder how I will feel watching her grow, watching her being excited about the bump, talking about babies first kick and watching others getting excited for her too but for now I will enjoy this moment knowing that I was cared for whilst having the opportunity to congratulate her on her wonderful news.