I still remember the day I found out I was pregnant with my first (now 5 1/2). My partner and I had stopped being ‘careful’ and at 9am on a workday I was buying an early pregnancy test and peeing on it in the communal office toilets – how Ally McBeal. I had to restrain myself from letting out a squeal when it was positive and sat at my desk feeling like I was going to burst, along with wanting to vomit in my bin. Sounds magical doesn’t it? But then reality set in – how was I going to do this without Mum? Mum died when I was 23 after a ten-year battle with the C-word. My world imploded and I was totally devastated. Who would I scoff cheese with until I felt sick? Who would tell me I looked utterly ridiculous without reducing me to tears or teach me how to make the perfect G&T (decent gin, ice and lots of lemon)? I didn’t think ‘who will hold my hand through labour or …