"A few view it as the end of their lives. They have to stop socialising; they are stuck alone, with no-one to talk to. Others view it as the beginning of their lives, the next level on the path of life. Me? I'm in the majority who views it as a blessing. I love being a mother. In a way, it saved me.

I didn't know what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go or who I wanted to be in life, until one day, something happened that was totally unexpected; I fell pregnant.

From that moment on, I knew what my goal in life was; to be the best mum to my unborn child. I was 18, had just moved out of home and in with my boyfriend. We didn't know what we were going to do, how we were going to cope.

But we were happy, there's no denying that. I had grown up in Wiltshire all my life, my boyfriend had grown up in Ceredigion, but, after a lot of discussion, we both agreed that bringing our unborn child up in Wiltshire wasn't really an option. In July 2003, we moved to Ceredigion to be nearer to his parents.

We stayed with them for the first two months. Then in September 2003, we were told we were being placed in emergency housing. The first step in our new lives together.

By month 5, I was still having really bad morning sickness, which didn't stop until a few minutes before giving birth. In December 2003, a couple of weeks before Christmas, we got the news we had waited 4 months for; the council had finally found us a little flat. It was small, but just what we needed.

Christmas came and went and we were into the New Year. Birth plans were being drawn up and we were getting more and more excited at the arrival of our unborn child.

We had the cot up, ready and waiting when 3 weeks before my due date I was sent into hospital overnight. Pre-eclampsia they said.

It was my mum's birthday so we didn't tell her. It was probably going to be ok, so we didn't want to worry her. Three days later though, I was still in and we had to let people know what was going on.

Mum came rushing up from Wiltshire to be by my side and my boyfriends parents came over every day to see how I was doing. To tell you the truth it got quite boring, all that constant bed-rest, feeling as large as a house and not being allowed to move very much.

It was lonely at nights too. The only comfort I had was the constant kicking of my unborn child saying "it's ok, mum, I'll be here soon and everything will be fine".

Day 6 and I was finally going to be induced. My boyfriend was allowed to stay overnight with me in a little side-room. Not that I got much sleep of course, what with all the sickness and contractions starting.

By 3am, I was pacing the corridors, trying to get a little relief. It must have worked a little as the next thing I remember was being woken at 6:30am the following morning to be given the second pessary tablet.

My boyfriend was told it would be ok to go to work that morning as nothing would be happening for the next 48 hours. By 9am that morning, he was called back into the hospital as our little one wanted so desperately to meet us.

After 5 hours 35 minutes and a lot of pain relief, our son was brought into this world on Valentines Day, 2004, weighing only 4lb 14oz.

Although I felt like I went to hell and back, with all the sickness, the pain, the loneliness, I'd do it all again.

If I hadn't have fallen pregnant, I would never have moved to such a beautiful part of the country. I would never have gotten engaged to such a wonderful man and we would never have married, as we did a week before Christmas 2005, with our beautiful son as the pageboy.

Motherhood happens for a reason; to give you a new chance at life. Being a mum is something you work at. It doesn't hold you back.

If anything, it brings you forward, into a new circle of friends who know exactly what you are going through. You are a member of an elite club, a club that doesn't need membership badges or secret handshakes.

No, this club is the end of your single life and the start of something more beautiful and more fulfilling. What more could you ask for?"

Article written by Michelle Shaftoe.