I booked myself and my baby into a facility and now, I'm a new person.

But let's rewind a few weeks.

There I was in the birthing suite, holding my soft, slimy baby girl on my tummy in utter disbelief of what had just happened. I looked up from her over at my husband Alex. His amazed face is a snapshot in my memory.

I should be feeling grateful, thankful that I'm pregnant. Over the moon. Oozing with anticipation. There are women all around me who would give their left arm to be pregnant.

When I handed the positive pregnancy test to my fiance Alex, his reaction was reassuring. His face beamed with disbelief and love. His excitement was paired with a strong sense of readiness. Why didn’t I feel this way?

I rebelled against my parents’ views when I first got married 11 years ago, but four weeks ago I realised that I had an opportunity to show my son a different way.

I have been feeling increasingly anxious about homeschooling. As a mum of a new preppy, I’ve been disappointed that my boy’s introduction to education has been so disrupted.

Today you will put on the classic oversized uniform and your massive empty backpack which is bigger than your whole body. What strikes me about this image is how big everything is; I ask myself, how will you ever fill it all up?

Since those two lines appeared on the pregnancy test six years ago, my fierce, mama-bear instinct has been to protect my son at all costs.

Most parents know that dreaded feeling when your house goes eerily quiet on a Sunday morning and upon further investigation, you uncover a disaster scene of secret kids’ business.

So here’s how it goes. Lights on dimmer, kids toys put away (#dickkiller). Fresh sheets, bluetooth speaker charged with playlist ready to go.