Adam and I have been together for eighteen months. In that time we’ve probably done what most couples do over the space of five years! 

We’ve known each other for about five years and have been good friends for about four of those. After six months of not knowing what either one of us was doing, we finally got together after I’d been in South Africa for two weeks working and realised I missed him. I would FaceTime him every day and he was the first person I saw when I got back. 


After three months of officially being together, Adz moved in. It made sense. We had been pretty much inseparable for the last eight months and he now spent more time at my place than at home.

Three months later and just after we’d returned from Paris (whisked away for my birthday) and a grand total of six months together, I found out I was pregnant.


Surprising news, but we were both over the moon. Needless to say, our parents were sceptical, but both being the eldest children in our families, we knew the stories of how we came to be and so, they’d been in a situation not dissimilar to ours. 

At six months pregnant and together a year, we bought our house and moved in when Eva was two weeks old.

I was adamant as soon as I found out that I was pregnant, that our baby would take Adam’s surname. As my parents are divorced, I have my dad’s name, which is obviously different to my mum’s, so I didn’t think it was so important to have the same name as my baby.


Fast forward to today and I couldn’t feel more differently. Something about having a different surname to Eva makes me feel a painful disconnect that I just can’t stand. It’s like there’s a club that my little family is in, but that I can’t be part of.

I’ve had to actually tell people and confirm she’s mine on so many occasions. Mum and baby clubs, doctors, hospitals etc. Booking our holiday away with her grandparents and everybody having the same surname on the booking except me, really upset me,

Honestly, I never thought I’d be someone who really needed a ring and to get married. I have divorced parents, grandparents, aunties and uncles. So I can’t say I’m a great believer in “marriage for life” even though, absolutely, that’s obviously what everybody intends when they do get married. I just know that I don’t feel like our family is a family just yet. But why do I need a piece of paper to confirm that? 

Obviously, I would love to marry Adam because I love him, but I’m not sure that that is what is driving me to send him engagement ring links every week (crazy bitch, I know! I would think the same. What has happened to me?!). And I suppose I respect him for that. He’ll ask when he’s good and ready and because that’s what he wants not just because society makes him feel bad or convention dictates. 

So Adz, (he’ll be reading this, because he likes to read my blogs – what a love!) you’re off the hook. No more nagging from me (although I can’t speak for his mum!). He can propose when he wants… Just don’t leave it to long though right?! 

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