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The most influential LGBT Twitter users of 2011 announced

The most influential LGBT Twitter users of 2011 have been announced

Stephen Fry has been named the most influential LGBT Twitter user in’s 2011 list. He told “It’s a very remarkable honour to top such a list. Thank you.

Actors, comedians, equality activists and writers all feature in Pink News’s list of the top 50 most influential LGBT Twitter users of 2011.

Earlier this month, they asked for your nominations for the LGBT voices you listen to on the micro-blogging site. Pink News ran those nominations through the PeerIndex social media ranking system and the results are in.

PeerIndex measures how authoritative and interesting other people think a Twitter user is, as well as what topics and categories drive that interest, rather than focusing only on the number of followers each user has.

Below you will find the list of the top 5 Tweeters with their ranking, username and PeerIndex score in brackets, followed by their profession.

1= @stephenfry
Stephen Fry (92)
Actor, writer, author, television presenter. 3,600,000 followers.

2= @perezhilton
Perez Hilton (90)
Blogger and media personality.

2= @theellenshow
Ellen DeGeneres (90)
Comedian, talk show host. 8,700,000 followers.

4= @ricky_martin
Ricky Martin (88)
Musician. 4,600,000 followers.

5= @actuallynph
Neil Patrick Harris (86)
Actor. 2,300,000 followers.

Read the rest of the list at

Read more about gay parenting at

Facebook removes ’20,000′ underage users each day

Approximately 20,000 children under age 13 are removed from Facebook for lying about their age every day. This was divulged during testimony by one of Facebook’s privacy advisors before Australia’s parliamentary cyber-safety committee. Also, nearly half of all 12-year-olds in the U.S. are using social networking sites, despite not meeting the minimum age requirements for sites like Facebook. This according to a study by the Pew Internet & American Life Project. And social networking increases tremendously once the teens grow older: roughly 64% of 13-year-olds are networking online; between the ages of 14 to 17, that figure jumps to 82%, says Pew. Any user no matter age can register for Facebook by simply lying when signing up – the giant has no mechanisms to detect whether a teen is telling the truth or not.

Sample Page

This is an example page. It’s different from a blog post because it will stay in one place and will show up in your site navigation (in most themes). Most people start with an About page that introduces them to potential site visitors. It might say something like this:

Hi there! I’m a bike messenger by day, aspiring actor by night, and this is my blog. I live in Los Angeles, have a great dog named Jack, and I like piña coladas. (And gettin’ caught in the rain.)

…or something like this:

The XYZ Doohickey Company was founded in 1971, and has been providing quality doohickeys to the public ever since. Located in Gotham City, XYZ employs over 2,000 people and does all kinds of awesome things for the Gotham community.

As a new WordPress user, you should go to your dashboard to delete this page and create new pages for your content. Have fun!

Fertility app Glow teams up with MyFitnessPal

Fertility app ‘Glow’ introduced earlier this year by PayPay co-founder Max Levchin, just announced its first partner. On Thursday, the startup said it was teaming up with top health and wellness app MyFitnessPal to enable users to connect their accounts on the two services.
Launched in August with $6 million from Founders Fund, Andreessen Horowitz and others, Glow uses big data analytics to help women who are trying to conceive identify the most fertile days in their cycle. It prompts them to provide information, like the length of their menstrual cycles, basal body temperature and health-related habits, and then analyzes the data within the context of other user data and known medical correlations to predict when she’s most likely to conceive.

As part of the integration with MyFitnessPal, Glow will now automatically pull information about users’ body mass index (BMI) directly into the app, as well as provide users with more specific diet and exercise insights and recommendations.

“We hope to further personalize the woman’s fertility window with the BMI information from MyFitnessPal,” co-founder and CEO Mike Huang said in an email. Not only does body mass index (BMI) affect conception, he said it will be helpful to include nutritional data in Glow’s data processing and algorithms.

“There also hasn’t ever been a cohesive study done to see how food intake affects fertility,” he said. “We know that certain foods should be avoided (like fish & caffeine), but down the line the integration will help us see how diet and exercise can impact a woman’s fertility.”

Article: 18th October 2013

Find a co-parenting to make a child in the US

Bringing up a child is an exciting and invigorating challenge most people adore; however, for some people it’s  not a possibility without the aid of a co parent. Fortunately finding a coparent to have a child with is quite elementary in the US, allowing those who can’t have children in the traditional manner, a way of doing so.

Suit your Needs

Sites such as offer people and couples the chance to choose the perfect co parent for their requirements. With a vast range of choices on how to do so, it is easily possible to find the type person you wish to coparent a child with, whether through sperm donor, surrogate mother, or as a co-parent.

Searching is very simple and can be easily done online. Users can choose from a comprehensive range of physical, psychological, educational and philosophical characteristics to meet their own requirements. This allows the person, or couple to make a choice that suits them and fits in with their own beliefs and needs.

Meet People

Meeting a coparent who fulfils all the aforementioned requirements in the US, is easy with the This procedure is mostly done on an anonymous basis. All coparents, sperm donors and surrogates undergo rigorous medical testing to verify that their sperm is vigorous, and you can be sure your baby will be healthy and just the way you want.

If choosing coparenting in the USA, you will find many advantages. One plus being, no matter what you require the diversity of the country means you can fulfil your needs. Coparenting allows you to come together amiably to celebrate your children while allowing them to receive the balance in life that is all so vital to their development.

Coparenting lends strongly towards cooperation, communication and compromise and is one of the dynamics of a healthy relationship in place for the childhood of your son, or daughter.

Nesting: 5 Great Ideas for Decorating Baby’s Room

There are two types of mommies-to-be: the kind who gleefully look forward to decorating the nursery and the kind who are overwhelmed by the prospect. Whether the thought of decorating makes you ill or you're the sort who's been looking at paint swatches since before you were pregnant, put your own signature on the baby's room. You'll be spending a substantial amount of time in the nursery, so it should be a pleasant atmosphere for you both. Mix things up, add elements that give a nod to tradition and combine them with design features from the rest of your home to make it flow with the decor in general, and it'll be a beautiful space of its own.

Rock Your Little One

Photo by Flickr user globalreset

A rocking chair is essential for a nursery, and it's in the top five of The Bump's tips for decorating your baby's room. A rocking chair will comfort baby and you both, whether it's during a late-night feeding, an early morning or just a lazy afternoon. There are so many choices: traditional wooden rocker, rocking recliner or a classic glider with upholstered cushions. Whatever kind of rocker you choose, it is certain to make the topsy-turvy hours a baby keeps easier to deal with.

Do Color Differently

You may want to go traditional with the color scheme and paint your nursery blue for a boy or pink for a girl. Better Homes and Gardens advises you pass on the typical pastels for more stimulating colors, such as turquoise or mustard. Off-set them with basic, neutral shades such as black, gray or an earthy brown.

Nursery Window Treatments

Photo by Flickr user trekkyandy

Window treatments are a nursery necessity that can be worked in effortlessly with the overall decor. Opt for curtains, layers of sheers or fabric, or wood blinds in shades that accent the color scheme you've chosen. Whatever window covering you choose, just be sure you don't put the crib close to the window. Once he's mastered standing up, his next goal will be to climb the curtains.

One to Grow Into

Multi-purposing the baby's room is sheer genius, especially if you're short on space. Make it a room your baby can grow into by furnishing it with a regular bed in addition to the crib. A raised bunk, for example, can sit over the crib and be used for guests (just roll the crib into your room to provide privacy) or even by you on those nights when you don't have the energy to drag yourself back across the hall. When the baby is old enough for a "big boy/girl bed," put the crib in storage and replace it with a toy box, a desk and chair or a twin bed for sleepovers.

Baby's Wild Side

Animal prints for a baby's room? Sure, if you limit the theme to accents such as pillows and rugs. Mix the prints with wood finishes, and keep the walls less busy with just one or two paint colors to adorn them. Keeping a light hand with this fun theme makes for easy theme changes and redecorating when your child gets older, too.

Pride Angel Journey – Hunter-Gatherer Aspirations

It was Christmas and I was twenty-two weeks gone when I decided that we’d timed this pregnancy perfectly (I say ‘we’ – of course aside from putting the raw ingredients together and hoping for the best, ‘we’ can hardly take the credit for my body deciding it was about time to have a go at the baby thing). Anyway, the timing was certainly perfect: thick support tights aimed at preventing varicose veins were ideal for the frosty wintery weather; I‘d been over the sickness long enough to regain a hearty appetite for my Christmas dinner and I was still comfortable enough at night to sleep on a blow-up mattress at the family get-together, after watching the Christmas Special of Call the Midwife.
It had made a change that morning to put on my black JoJo Maman Bébé maternity dress – one of the few maternity items I’d actually bought. Aware that university tuition fees were looming (well, in eighteen years or so) we’d been keen to save money, and a friend had kindly leant me a stack of clothes. Still, I spent the best part of six months alternating mostly between four pairs of maternity trousers: jeans, tracksuit bottoms, work trousers and pyjamas. So it was nice to put on a dress for a change, and to show off the nifty breastfeeding feeding holes which were revealed when you loosened the waist ties.

And with Christmas came of course the reminder of how much more fun it would be next year. In my family, Christmas had been for far too long an adult affair. It was hard to imagine it any other way and, so inexperienced where babies were concerned, we wondered how exactly it would change: what would our little person – this little creature which squirmed and shuddered under my skin – be doing next December? Could eight-month-olds eat mince pies or open presents or have any real idea of what was going on? We didn’t know. We were still reading the pregnancy books and hadn’t quite made it on to the parenting ones.

Somehow, in addition to the more mainstream titles we’d ploughed through, my partner, Sally (who was always two or three books ahead of me, and thus by far the better informed regarding this whole pregnancy lark) came across a publication entitled Immaculate Deception II: Myth, Magic & Birth. We knew from watching One Born Every Minute that some of the book’s claims were now rather dated – enemas and pubic shaving are no longer the order of the day, and you aren’t automatically drugged as high as a pile of nappies and hitched up into stirrups with four gown-wearing doctors brandishing forceps and peering at your nether regions.

Nevertheless, it certainly showed us the benefits of aiming for a more natural approach: limited use of drugs, a midwife-led, active birth. A calm and gentle welcome to the world for our baby. I could see the point of those birthing pools and stools: squatting and groaning, rather than lying flat on a bed and screaming was perhaps how our bodies had been designed to deal with this. I was reminded of how a cat or dog will go off to find a quiet, safe place to snuggle down and give birth – surely this, and not furnishing the spare room with a Mamas and Papas furniture set in Light Oak, is ‘nesting’. The book encouraged me to think about what our ancestors must have done – not our mothers and grandmothers, but our Hunter-Gatherer ancestors. They managed without the medics – not all of them of course – childbirth must have been a very risky business. But enough of them managed – well, we’re here now, aren’t we?

I interrogated friends who already had children and listened to one birthing horror story after another: tales of non-progressing labours, anaesthetists busy elsewhere, epidurals not working, morphine and forceps and third degree tears. And while of course I knew how grateful we are to those medics when an emergency caesarean saves two lives, I wondered how feasible it was to hope for a natural birth. I would probably only get one opportunity to do this thing – this fundamental process of birthing, for which my body had been designed. And somehow, I wanted to acknowledge all those Hunter-Gatherer mothers of yore who slipped off into a quiet corner of the forest without drugs, hospitals or anything but a knowledge passed on time and again, one woman to the next.

Part of me felt I could do this, I could be that Hunter-Gatherer woman, squatting in the forest – nowadays we aren’t as physically fit as they would have been, or as accustomed to manual labour, but I was healthy enough. How can pain relief be so essential in a normal childbirth when we’ve only really had it in the last one hundred years? But would my pain threshold be too low to cope? And if there were complications, was there a way of preventing one intervention from leading to another? Did the best laid birth plans of mice and birthing women gang aft to pethidine?

Meanwhile it was January and the pelvic pain that was starting to set in was tempered with the knowledge that maternity leave was now only a school term away. But, at the end of a silent corridor of a school after home-time, rooting around in a dusty old storeroom, unearthing cobwebbed textbooks from ancient shelves, it occurred to me that perhaps this was the quiet spot my Hunter-Gatherer woman would have chosen.

Article: by Lindsey, West Yorkshire 30th August 2013

Why You Should Buy a Laptop for Your Teen

Florida is leading the nation in advancing technology for its students. By 2015, Florida schools will have to abide by a state mandate that requires half of all learning materials to be digital. The trend is gaining traction in other states, too. Get your child a head start on the technology tools he’ll need to succeed once he graduates by considering a laptop purchase now for these benefits.

Recording Lectures

Many educators recommend recording lectures for better comprehension. There are many distractions in school, from dropped books, to the guy in the next seat wiggling during lectures. Using laptop-compatible recording devices such as the Sony ICD-SX733D (less than $175) with Dragonfly speech-to-text software makes transcribing notes a breeze.

Online Study Groups

Professional Learning Strategist Rick Grossman recommends students form study groups to review lectures to improve performance. When you provide a reliable Internet connection from a service such as for your student, meeting online allows groups to easily gather for impromptu support, along with scheduled face-to-face meet-ups.

Ditch the Heavy Literary Tomes

In an effort to get new information into students’ hands in a faster and less expensive way, schools from K-12 through college are shifting to downloadable textbooks. Apple offers special discounts for student Mac users, instructors and homeschool families.

According to Apple, students with access to a full range of technology tend to get higher writing scores, exhibit strong analytical and problem-solving skills and are more engaged in their academic career. Besides, carrying around a laptop is much less strenuous than toting around a dozen scholarly volumes.

Saving Money

Most schools offer deep discounts for software. Dell, Samsung and HP routinely offer discounts for laptops to students to the tune of several hundred dollars. A recent search listed the HP ENVY dv6t-7300 Quad Edition Notebook for less than $800 — without the student discount. It has everything your student needs to connect with instructors and classmates, plus outstanding video and music sharing capability. A current Dell promotion for students is offering a $200 gift card with laptop purchase.


It might seem obvious, but the portable nature of a laptop is highly conducive to boosting performance. Your student can access resource material, class notes, instructor contact information, and textbooks anytime, anywhere, provided there is an Internet connection or mobile hot spot available. So whether your students wants to stay connected during a mid-term break, or review the Jefferson Papers for an upcoming government exam, information is at his fingertips.

Preparing for Tomorrow

Computer technology is integral to almost every job sector today. While students gain valuable knowledge and experience using campus computer labs, having a personal device affords more time and freedom to explore technology.

Texas A&M and many other schools recognize this, and recommend all students who have the financial ability to buy a personal computer do so. In order to prepare for work in our technology-driven world, students benefit from owning, operating, and maintaining personal computer equipment. Laptops make boosting performance mobile and convenient.

Creative Commons image by miguelb

Pride Angel Journey | Russian Dolls

It was a Thursday in October, almost thirteen weeks into my pregnancy when I had the first scan. At last proper confirmation that this nausea wasn’t for nothing – there really was something inside me, something human. I was still being sick every evening but the misery was now tinged with hope and excitement: hope that the nausea might end fairly soon, and excitement at the knowledge of the life inside me. Meanwhile, a tiny being reclined comfortably in my womb as if relaxing on a sun lounger. It looked so laidback, so collected – so different from how I felt. And tiny, yes, but not a bit vulnerable or needy. Not like it might scream for hours, appalled at the shock of life itself.
It was time to go public, although by this time it was only really a secret to people who lived far away and hadn’t witnessed the pathetic sight of me gnawing miserably at half a breadstick in between gulps of Gaviscon. We’d been nervous about telling our parents – I wasn’t sure how mine would take to our method of conception, involving a man from the Internet masturbating in our bathroom, but their desperation for a grandchild, the extent of which I hadn’t truly realised, apparently overrode any concerns they may have had. When I was little over seven weeks gone, my mum took the opportunity while the neighbours were on holiday (since it was still early days) to get my old baby clothes and Terry nappies out of the loft, through the wash and hanging on the line in the garden. This child was either going to look ridiculous, dressed in clothes over thirty years old, or like a supercool 70’s retro baby. Close friends either already knew our method of conception or, if they didn’t, were quick to ask. More distant friends and work colleagues tended not to ask and, while part of me wanted to correct their probable assumption that we’d been to a clinic and used anonymous donor sperm, I also felt that the quite intimate details of our child’s beginning were best kept as distant as possible from staffroom gossip. We left our parents to spread the news to the older family members still surviving, and I still experience a slight discomfort when I wonder exactly how much they were told and what their understanding is of how lesbians go about these things; it horrifies me to think that they may be under the impression that I had sex with a man – but perhaps I’m insulting the intelligence of a generation that we have actually found far more accepting of our relationship than the post-war baby boom generation that followed them.

Meanwhile, my body was changing. It was around the fourteen-week mark that a sliver of tummy was starting to emerge between tops and trousers. Keen to avoid both a November crop-top look and the risk of catching a chill, I had to reassess my wardrobe. A similarly proportioned friend had very kindly leant me a mound of maternity clothes, and my forage into the bag heralded a revelation: the comfort of maternity jeans with a shrewdly practical elastic-and-button adjustable system on the waistband.

There was really no hiding the emerging bump now and one break-time, a group of Year 11 girls cornered me; clearly aware of the delicacy of the issue, yet determined for answers, after a little skirting around the topic they ventured to ask whether the rumours were true. I hadn’t anticipated the screaming that my response inspired, and the anxious educator in me was a little perturbed at their complete lack of concern that their English teacher would be leaving a month before the GCSE exams.

A couple of weeks later, one of the girls – interestingly a student who was rather too relaxed where her work was concerned – presented me with a hat she’d knitted for the baby. I was very touched by the effort she’d gone to, and felt a surge of guilt: my knitting needles hadn’t surfaced since the last charity blanket square I’d produced twenty years ago as a Girl Guide and now my baby was reliant on sixteen-year-olds for its wardrobe. I hastily consulted Amazon and ordered a copy of Vintage Knits for Modern Babies, some wool and needles, and hoped I’d be able to find a YouTube video on how to cast-on. Meanwhile, I was unaware that around the country a hum of clicking needles was already picking up tempo; the post-war generation may struggle a little at first with homosexuality, but news of a baby is well within their comfort zone and the automatic reaction of many of our mums’ friends and friends’ mums, it seemed, was to reach for a couple of balls of Baby DK and a pattern.

By mid-November, I’d reached seventeen weeks and the misery of the nausea had been replaced by a renewed appetite for evening meals which I could now keep down. My weight started to increase – until now, despite the emerging bump, with two and a half months of minimal food and no exercise, both fat and muscle had been dropping off from the rest of my body. We started to socialise again; I was still rather prone to more severe travel-sickness than I was used to, but we managed to visit relatives in Wales and on the South Coast and for the first time in over twenty years in my family, talk was of babies. We went for an Indian meal with friends, one of whom was two months ahead of me, and we were able to share both the exasperation of being told for the fiftieth time that ginger could solve the sickness problem (it wasn’t even slightly effective for either of us) and the excitement of what we both had ahead. The fact was, that pregnancy was starting to become quite good fun.

And all this time I was still only just beginning to get my head round the miracle inside me. I was reminded of the> colourful Russian Dolls I had as a child, especially when I learnt that if our child was a girl, she would already have a full complement of eggs ready to produce her own children: another two generations there, inside me. I was almost ready to don a bright yellow headscarf and paint my lips bright red. But if only birth was as easy as a brief twist and pull of two bits of painted wood…

Article: by Lindsey, West Yorkshire 6th July 2013

Read more blogs following Lindsey’s Pride Angel Journey at www.prideangel

The Myth of ‘Morning’ Sickness

It was a Friday, the day the pregnancy test was positive. Day 29 of my cycle, fifteen days after insemination. A drab August day. The rain drizzling down the window panes seemed incongruent with my mood, but I was struggling to identify my mood at all. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t wished for a positive test. It was exactly what we’d been hoping for, of course. And it had happened much sooner than expected. A huge success.
But it was a strange feeling and I skulked around the house, not sure what to do with myself. I didn’t feel any different from the previous day, week, month. Yet somewhere deep inside me, a complex manufacturing process was taking place: cells were dividing and multiplying, and something microscopic yet undeniably human was starting to take shape. I was on holiday from work and normally I’d be getting on with something or other: odd jobs around the house, some lesson preparation ready for the new school term…but now I was four weeks pregnant and it didn’t seem right just to carry on as usual. But what do you do when you’re four weeks pregnant?

What you don’t do when you’re four weeks pregnant is tell anyone. I knew that rule well enough, so after an excited text to my partner, Sally, I put my phone aside and (perhaps it was the effect of the miserable weather) found myself a ‘helpful’ chart on the Internet showing the percentage risk of miscarriage at each week of pregnancy. After a brief period of amazement that even to make it thus far, our little embryo had defied the odds of 3:1, in that same rain-inspired spirit, I focused on the 10% chance that I would still miscarry – a 10% chance that wouldn’t go down to 5% until we were to hear a heartbeat. And when would that opportunity arise? When placed on my lower abdomen, Sally’s stethoscope was sadly lacking in the ability to detect anything other than a rather embarrassing set of noises emanating from my intestines.

The next couple of weeks were exciting, secretive and notably uneventful. Sally encouraged me to stock up on tasty snacks: eating regularly would prevent me from lacking in energy and feeling sick and I dutifully snacked away, attributing a vague trembling in the legs or a slight rumble of the stomach to dangerously low levels of blood sugar.

The August Bank Holiday Weekend arrived, and Sally and I were at Manchester Pride. It was the Sunday, about 5pm and wandering the busy stalls I suddenly felt as though I might be sick. I’m not generally a very sickly person and I’d forgotten what nausea felt like. Confident that food was the answer, Sally led me to the row of burger vans while I shuffled along behind her, clocking alleyways and dingy corners where I might vomit unnoticed. A couple of hours later, after slowly picking at a baked potato and beans, the blandest food I could find, the nausea faded. We found some friends, gave the usual imaginative excuses for my glass of lemonade, and settled down to relive our early childhood, watching Toyah Willcox in Sackville Gardens.

Over the next few days the nausea would turn up in time for afternoon tea and make itself at home for the evening. By the following weekend it had come to stay and save for, ironically, half an hour when I first woke up, ‘morning’ sickness became my main daily activity, the day punctuated by attempts to force down various food items and galloped trips to the toilet for retching – no actual vomiting at this stage. I eventually settled on a fairly consistent diet of breadsticks, boiled eggs, small pieces of very mild cheese and watermelon.

September arrived and it was time to return to work for the new school term. The mere notion of teaching five classes of teenagers each day, followed by time spent planning lessons and marking their books seemed laughable in my current condition. Nevertheless, left with little choice, I armed myself with a roll of pedal bin liners and motion sickness wrist bands and, after guiltily confessing all to the school management, got on with it – albeit slipping out into the corridor now and again with a bin bag for a tactical retch, and surreptitiously shoving small cubes of cheese into my mouth as Year 11 exited, and Year 10 came in.

The worst time was always the evenings, and while this meant I generally managed fairly well where work was concerned, poor Sally got me at my worst each day. Arriving home from work at 7.30pm, she would usually find me lying as still as I could on the bed, perhaps emitting a faint moaning sound. Little would change until I’d wake up in the middle of the night, feeling almost normal and wondering whether beginning a nocturnal life was the answer.

Sally put aside her fears that she’d be stuck with this new miserable, retching girlfriend for life and focused her time on reading voraciously about pregnancy and obsessively sending off coupons for free stuff. It seems there are no trial-sachet lengths that companies will not go to in order to get the custom of mothers-to-be, and we were soon stockpiling sample packs of stretchmark lotions, nappy creams, fabric conditioner and even packs of nappies and the occasional towel.

Meanwhile both my nausea and my fury that no one had given me any kind of realistic warning about what the nausea would be like were both coming to a peak. I was ready to do serious damage to the next person who suggested my problems might be solved by the consumption of ginger. I’d moved on to hot school dinners at lunchtime which were going down quite well, and at least providing me with some vegetable intake, but I was now vomiting every evening, and by nine weeks I stopped bothering to eat at all after 3pm; it was just a waste of good food.

At school rumours of my pregnancy were already rife: much to my bafflement, it seems wearing motion sickness bands during the working day is an obvious sign of pregnancy to today’s Year 11 girls. I would hear whispers as I arrived at my classroom door, “you can see it, look!” and I’d hold my tummy in as well as I could, and make sure my top was covering the extender clip on my trousers. Despite having lost five kilogrammes and having had to remove my rings from my fingers before they slipped off, there was now a slight bump becoming noticeable, although only really obvious when I was naked.

At twelve weeks the midwife came to visit. After a rather amusing moment where she asked for Sally’s genetic history, and we had to remind her of the use of donor sperm, she asked me to lie flat on my back while she prodded my tummy with some midwifery device. And there it was, a heartbeat, inside me, that wasn’t my heartbeat. Suddenly I felt an amazing sense of relief – until now, no one else had offered any confirmation that I was actually pregnant. I’d done the test myself and then felt sick. People just believe you, but what if it had all been in my head? Anyway, it wasn’t – there was something inside me that wasn’t me. Something alive, and in a week’s time at the scan, we’d get the further confirmation – that this creature was a baby.

Article: 5th May 2013 by Lindsey, West Yorkshire

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