Five years ago today...

... my life ended. Sounds dramatic, I know, but it really did.

I was 21, twelve-thousand km (seven-thousand+ miles) from home, had very little family nearby (none of it immediate family), was unmarried, and had just found out I was pregnant. I was totally in love with my boyfriend, but terrified he was going to take one look at that evil little stick and run away. My life was over. I cried so hard it hurt.

Life started again within minutes. Boyfriend didn't want to run. He still loved me, wanted to keep the baby, and proposed on the spot. I kept on crying, but it was happier tears now.

But it was a different life.

My old life really did end. The life of Young-Sarah. No major responsibilities, always enough money, time to have fun. A carefree life, and one that matched my friends'. We weren't living in the same country, but anytime I went 'home' I would fit right in, we would have things in common. We could go out and do silly things. Stay out in the city till five AM and catch a cab home. Spend all day on the beach and eat whatever we wanted for dinner. And boyfriend and I could do whatever we wanted. We could stay up all night playing video games. Spontaneously decide to go to a museum 3 hours away from home. Drive to Vegas for the weekend with no prior planning. Go to the movies every night for a week. Not any more.

I think I like my new life better. Filled with cuddles and the smell of new baby, tiny clothes on the clothesline, and terry towel nappies scattered through the house. Brightly coloured toys that make far too much noise, and long nights in bed with a small body snuggled against me. A 'big boy' intent on teaching his sister to play soccer, and tiny hands eager to help with anything sister-related. Prayers to look after 'the baby', even though she now has a name, and a four year old's arms anxiously waiting to hold her.

My life ended February 16th 2004, and I've never been gladder.