I admit it, I’ve been pretty quiet of late.

I haven’t had much to say for myself about anything, much less on the topic of menfolk and their foibles. And you’d be quite within your rights to wonder what has provoked this sudden silence.

Well, it’s simple. Are you sitting down?

I’m pregnant.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. But once I got over the shock, I started to look on the bright side. It’s an opportunity. A gift, if you like.

Sure, I’m in the least suitable position ever: self-employed with a risible salary, living in shared accommodation and looking at single parenthood from the wrong side. Pretty much everything about my life is going to have to change – but nevertheless I’m happy.

The Baby Daddy is, of course, completely overwhelmed by the situation. Even though it clearly takes two to tango, he places the blame squarely at my door, since I refused to consider remedial measures once I found I was pregnant.

I understood his point. But in all honesty, I just couldn’t.

I’ve always been in favour of a woman’s right to choose, a sentiment I still stand by now. But I found that when it applied to my own body and this little life that had managed to thrive in silence, without me even knowing it was there… well, I just couldn’t.

I also found that, contrary to what I’d previously thought, a baby actually starts to look like a baby pretty early on.

Carefully charting the progress of the little being in my belly, I’ve been horrified to learn that, whilst you can find out the gender of your baby from 20 weeks, abortion is (currently) legal up until 24 weeks.

Of course, each case is different, and you can’t judge someone ‘til you’ve stood in their shoes, but it’s made me fiercely protective of my growing little bundle.

As for The Baby Daddy, I oscillate between complete and utter sympathy for him, and a pressing urge to shake him by the shoulders, shouting, “Man up!” Being unable to count on him for anything is, in turns, exasperating, infuriating, depressing and demoralising.

His insistence that he’ll decide whether or not he wants to be involved once the baby is born completely ignores the fact that I might well need varying kinds of assistance some time before that magical day dawns.

Luckily, my fabulous friends have, once again, been my salvation, offering moral support in spades. My mum and dad have also come up trumps. And if anybody’s thought anything negative, they’ve been kind it enough to keep it to themselves.

So… still bloody single, yes. But I have to say that, despite the insistence of several male friends that I’m all set to become one of the town’s yummiest mummies (thanks, fellas) men are one of the last things on my mind at the moment. There are so many other things to think about.

But I’ve decided that, for the moment at least, there’s no point in panicking.

Of course my situation’s not ideal, but plenty of people have it far worse. I’ve got the love of my friends and my family to see me through, and if The Baby Daddy isn’t involved … well, what a terrible loss for him. Whatever happens, the bubba and I will be alright.

So join me as I drink a (non-alcoholic) toast to a whole new chapter in my life: stillbloodysinglemum.

Cheers!