The summer of 2018 is one I’ll never forget. Britain was in the midst of the longest heatwave since the 1970’s, and I was pregnant with my first child. It was a summer spent excitedly preparing for my son’s arrival with only a tinge of FOMO that I couldn’t join my friends drinking Pimms and revelling in this endless summer. I sat in my garden cradling my huge nine-month bump staring at the now parched grass, imagining myself splashing in a paddling pool next summer with my one-year old son. I couldn’t wait to be his mummy and finally have him here. Little did I know that this would be the last normal day of my life.
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