I know I want at least one baby. But the more I learn about motherhood, the more terrifying it seems | Charlie Brinkhurst-Cuff

Even supposedly positive' birth stories make my heart sink. Am I just going to have to make a leap of faith?

It's a conspiracy, I'm sure of it. Since the pandemic in 2020, the year I moved out of the category of young adulthood, my Instagram for you" page has been filled with images and videos of the cutest babies you could ever hope to see. Round-cheeked and smiley, they drool and babble and fall haphazardly on their faces when they fart, or smile when they fart, or just fart very loudly. It's adorable.

As someone who, at 30, hasn't been around many actual babies, and has only a couple of close friends who have embarked on parenthood thus far, this online exposure has been transformative. I had always known I wanted at least one child, but approached the idea with the naivety of youth and the assuredness of socialised gender norms - of course I would have a child because all little girls have the ambition to care for babies, and why would I have wasted all that time swaddling a plastic doll or discussing baby names when I was barely out of babyhood myself (Chloe was my favourite) if it wouldn't one day translate into reality?