I’m a mess, a failure of epic proportions. Panic rises in me like it’s done a million times in the past couple of weeks, and I get angry once more at how pathetic I am. I’m sweating in fear at the thought of someone relying on me for survival. A woman who can’t even get her head around something women are meant to do and have naturally, apart from me.

I’m not good at nurturing and letting people close. What if I end up like Emma’s mom? Some cold, unfeeling woman who kept ...