In her final days of pregnancy, Elle Duffy reflects on the emotional weight of waiting, the pull of island life, and an unexpected reminder of how deeply rooted we are in the places—and creatures—we love.

We are living in a strange kind of pause. A world between worlds, waiting for the most exciting - and daunting - adventure of our lives so far. And it is brutal.

For the last fortnight, we’ve been living hundreds of miles away from home, separated by both land and sea, waiting not-so patiently for the arrival of our first child. We’re camping out with my in-laws, living out of hastily packed suitcases while our real home sits many miles and one stretch of sea away, on the Isle of Rum, a tiny speck in the Inner Hebrides with forty residents, a post office, and absolutely no on-island maternity services. So here we are, displaced but hopeful, our lives on hold, waiting for the moment that changes everything.

Since I found out I was pregnant in February, people have been telling me how agonising the last few weeks of pregnancy are. The discomfort, the pain, the........

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