2015 is one helluva year. I came back to my hometown Melbourne after a 9 year hiatus with the intention of renewing my visa and returning to South Africa where I spent most of 2014. Instead, I managed to land myself at the doctors office who told me the reason I was feeling lethargic and exhausted was not because of any weird virus or cancers. I was 9 weeks pregnant.

Holy crap. What?!

‘Who’s the daddy?’ Asked one of my closest friends.

‘What are you going to do?’ Asked another

‘Will you keep it?’

A brief two month interlude with a cute Capetonian has resulted in a foetus. A life inside of me. What am I going to do? He’s in Cape Town, I’m in Melbourne. We made no commitment together,  was just getting to know each other. He’s not going to be happy about this but I should tell him.

‘When are you going to get an abortion?’ ‘I don’t want a baby’ ‘please get me out of this!’ ‘If you want a baby so badly, I’ll pay for a sperm donor, but please abort this one!’ ‘Can you please sign a financial waiver?’

Yup, I sure knew how to pick’em.

Not completely surprised, I knew he didn’t want children. But his remarks still shocked me. I understand it came as a bit of a shock for him but at the back of my head,I was remembering the advice of a wise friend: it’s at the darkest times when you see the true soul of a person. The benefits of hindsight. I decided I’ll have to make this decision on my own, taking into account everything that matters, most importantly the growing foetus inside of me.

I am 36 years old, previously married and separated. Single for over 3 years, and had a ton of experiences: grew up in Australia, worked and lived in London, Hong Kong and Africa. I’ve done the work abroad thing, done the travel world thing, done the volunteerism thing. Last year in Africa, I saw my first shooting star and I wished for a family and children. ‘Hey you out there!’ I wanted to scream, ‘You got this wish thing the wrong way round!’ There was meant to be a man in this dream, someone to share the ups and downs and journey through life together.

So take note peoples: one needs to be very specific when making wishes. I can’t predict the order of the universe or what is in store for me, but I know having a child is a blessing. I know many friends who are in great relationships, trying to have babies and still the universe is shaking its fingers and saying,’oh no, it’s not your time yet!’ I am blessed, this child was not planned but I have a responsibility to bring a soul into the world because that’s infinitely what God wants for me.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. My mother was going through a downward spiral of depression since my African journey and wished I would return home. This was God’s way of granting her prayers. Perhaps not in the way she’d hoped but I’ve come home, and I’m staying home. South Africa is no place to bring up children, being a single parent in Melbourne will be tough but I know I’ll have great support from family and friends here.

So I bid farewell to the brief chapter in my life: Mr Capetonian, the father of my child. He will not know what I’ve been through: the crazy emotional process of having to make the hardest decision in my life. One that determines whether a human life lives or dies. And whilst I’m sorry he has not consented to this, I strongly believe this is the right thing to do. He will not know the ups and downs of pregnancy, the emotional turmoil, the heartache of knowing that my baby will never know her father.

Fast forward, I’m 36 weeks pregnant now, she’s arriving in less than 4 weeks. I can’t believe how quickly time has flown by. I’ve been in bed on many sleepless nights wishing someone would cuddle and hold me. I’ve read pregnancy books, forums and blogs who talk about keeping your partner involved and wished I had one too. I went to birthing classes, the only person without a partner or husband and was grateful I have a doula to help me through my experience. Some nights, I am tired and emotional, and cry for no reason but then my thoughts goes to my child, and what’s best for her. I’m choosing to give her life, I want to be a good mother, I’m sure being stressed and emotional does not help. Can she feel it? I don’t want her to be sad.

‘What will you say when she asks about her father?’

I still grapple with that. I don’t know is the true answer. I’m fearful of stigma, I’m fearful of how we’ll live after she’s born, I worry for our future. I’m going to be a single mother. But one thing at a time; for now, my scariest journey is the next step: giving birth. I pray for an easy labour (ha!), I pray she’ll be healthy and happy. One day I will tell her the truth when she’s ready; for now, after she’s born, I hope she sleeps like an angel, feeds when mummy is awake and cries only intermittently! Is that too much to ask?