When I look down, the thing is empty. There is no baby in the car seat. Why was it so heavy? Anxiety overwhelms me then; something is missing.

I look around me and familiarize myself with my room before face-planting back into my pillow. That was too real. I reach for my laptop and Google ‘hot yoga class’. I book a hot yoga session at a ‘luxury hotel’ for the next bank holiday weekend. In these anxiety-ridden witching hours I always feel a desperate need to book something to make me feel less alone and afraid. So this time: not just any old sweating – some luxury sweating.

‘I have a difficult enough time getting motivated to take good care of myself. I cannot imagine having to always put a child first.’

Maria, 26

18

There’s a plain-looking envelope on my doormat. I shuffle along my tiny hallway in my thick socks and grab it. I slice it open with a knife and inside I find a letter from TFL and a ‘Baby on Board’ badge. Huh? Oh. Crap. I suddenly have a flashback of me searching on eBay for a second-hand badge on Friday night as I drank myself into the weekend with a massive glass of wine in hand. Looks like it’s arrived. Guess if you say you’re pregnant, anyone would just believe you, eh?

I put the badge on, clipping it to the outside of my jacket. I look in the mirror. It looks weird on me. Probably because you’re not pregnant, Olive! But I feel different. Like it’s a tiny piece of armour, a temporary shield against the real horrors of the world. A shortcut to feeling like I might have my shit together.

I call Mum on the way to the bus stop. Sometimes I feel guilty about how long we can go without speaking to each other. She bought me a fridge magnet last Christmas that says, ‘Call your mother’ and I have to admit it’s worked. Every time I look at it, I’m given a little nudge to make more of an effort with her.

‘Hi Olive!’ She picks up after quite a few rings.

‘Hi Mum.’

‘How are you doing darling? Good week?’

‘OK, thanks. Just plodding along with work and seeing friends. You?’

‘My friend Steph came round last night and showed me pictures of her daughter’s new baby. Then we did some gardening together. Was so exciting using my new gardening gloves!’

‘Oh lovely.’

‘What are you up to today?’

‘Oh just work, Mum, and seeing my friend Col at the pub.’

‘You’ve been doing some printing?’

‘Printing?’

‘When you make the magazines.’

‘Mum, I write for the magazine and the website. I don’t physically print them.’

‘Sorry darling, I still don’t one hundred per cent understand your job.’

‘It’s not that hard to understand, Mum.’ I sound huffy now.

‘All I know is that you are doing very well. I’ll have to show you pics of Steph’s grandchild soon; she’s got the smallest, cutest ears! Reminds me of when you were little, actually.’