At 5:30am this morning, I awoke to find the strangest of sensations in my abdomen. It’s kind of hard to describe, but the best I can say is it was like lots of little tuggy twinges.

All weekend I’d had a surreal feeling that this was going to be the month it happens. My boobs have still been hurting like hell and I’ve been really tired the last couple of days. I know, it’s only my second cycle of trying (and only my first doing it properly!), but the feeling of hope was incredibly strong. While I wasn’t absolutely certain I was pregnant, I was more sure than doubtful.

I got up for a pee and decided to do a test. A few moments later, in the not-so-soft glow of the bathroom lighting, a very faint pink line began to emerge.

I didn’t want to wake Nobby, and I still didn’t believe it myself, so I trotted back to bed. At 9:30am, he awoke and I groggily asked him to nip to Sainsburys and grab me a First Response Early Result test.

Half an hour later, I checked my temperature and was disappointed to find it had gone down 0.2 degrees. However, I’d checked earlier than my usual time so decided to go back to sleep for an hour and check it again. At 11am, my normal temp-checking time, I was mightily relieved to see it was back up to 36.97C.

It was now the moment of truth. Nobby had returned with the requested hardware and I dashed off to the bathroom with fingers and toes crossed. 3 minutes have never passed so slowly, but suddenly there it was. One pregnancy test strip with two solid pink lines proudly displayed in the result window.

Cue me running around the house with the biggest grin I’ve ever had plastered to my face.

I’m pregnant.

Saying and writing it feels so weird. Now I just hope our little bean truly is a sticky one.