L aying my hands on my huge belly bump, I smiled weakly as I felt a tiny kick.
Morning sickness was no joke.
Since I’d fallen pregnant in May 2014, hyperemesis gravidarum meant I’d spent most of my pregnancy in bed.
But my baby had ended two years of heartache for me and my partner, Michael, then 28.
We’d almost given up hope, then a miracle happened and now, seven months pregnant, I was counting the days till we got to meet our daughter.
We chose the name Nia, which means ‘purpose’ in Swahili.
Putting my head back on my pillow, I decided to do something special for our imminent arrival.
‘I’m going to write you a story,’ I whispered.
