Julie Jay: At the risk of sounding peak notions, mammies can dream too

In becoming a mammy again, you do lose yourself, a little. It is impossible not to become subsumed by the tsunami force about to hit your life, and that is the fear. It is a fear that wills us not to be forgotten

IN my pregnancies to date, there always comes a point where I feel like that Back to the Future photograph, fading into oblivion as Marty McFly wrestles with his mother trying to seduce him (for Gen Zers who have never seen the movie, trust me, it’s less oedipal than it sounds).

In my bid to avoid being erased from the comedy community post-baby, I have said ‘yes’ to the opening of every relatively unimportant envelope and expressed a determination to run myself ragged — the likes of which hasn’t been seen since I insisted on organising my hen party. (Control freak? Moi? Never.)