@planethappy1: Yes it is a very big responsibility but by far the best thing that happened to me. You might hate other people’s kids, but seriously you will never feel love for anyone as much as you will for your own child.

@sammy15: lesbian

@lookmum156: fair enough ariana but i think you’ll change your mind one day. Doctors are right not to do it.

@saladlover100: bitch whore

@julie_smith: I’ve known from the age of about 12 that I never wanted kids. I’ve always found children irritating, even when I was a child myself. I hear you.

@james_smith_90 MUPPET!!

I take in a deep, slow breath. I feel sick at the judgement that people have towards women like Ariana. It still feels like such a dirty topic, a dirty confession. I realize I’m not shocked by her words, even if I’ve never read anything like this before. And there’s no hiding it: I feel intrigued. It’s a rush. My face gets closer and closer to the screen until the comments begin to blur. I start typing out a comment: ‘Ariana, I just love your honesty. Would you be open to meeting up for a coffee?’ Then I notice my username is set to my real name – @olive_stone_ – and I immediately delete it. I also do a quick check that no one is looking over my shoulder.

6

After work, I WhatsApp Cecily and ask if I can come over. I feel as if we didn’t really speak properly at Bea’s and I’m worried that I was being too jokey and mean.

Me: Hello babe are you free this eve for a visitor?

Cec: ooh that’s a LOVELY idea. Yes please. Chris is out with the lads, I’m on the sofa, feeling like a whale in thick socks.

Me: Not a whale. Yay see you v soon.

I have to see her properly before the baby arrives. Nothing beats one-on-one time. I nip home first, and grab a giant frozen tub of home-made macaroni cheese that Zeta made me when the break-up first happened and I couldn’t quite stomach anything. They say the best gift to give any pregnant woman, or new parent, is food. Not flowers, because that’s just one extra thing to keep alive. I realize on my way over that this is probably the last time I will see her before she is a mum – Cec, being just Cec, on her own. The thought makes me feel a bit teary but then she answers the door and I push out a smile.

Cecily and her husband Chris live in a big Georgian terraced, high-ceilinged, West London house – the kind with sleek white columns in front of the door. The elephant in the room is always that Cecily’s house is much nicer than the rest of ours. Bea’s is gorgeous but also a kid-infested circus. Cec’s looks like an Architectural Digest photoshoot. She has a roll-top bath with a marble floor, for God’s sake. Her hallway is big enough that it has room for a blue velvet sofa on one side as you walk in. I try not to be too jealous that Cecily’s casual sit-down-and-take-your-shoes-off hallway sofa is nicer than my main living-room sofa that took me five years to pay off. It can be awkward when your mate has way more money than you. But she is an award-winning lawyer. I am a not-yet-award-winning writer. We made different choices so it doesn’t really make sense to be jealous. But still, it’s the easiest thing in the world to compare yourself to others – especially your best friends and their velvet hallway sofas.