Happy Birthday.

One week.

What a week.

We spent those first seven days in a room in the hospital.

Your mum confined to bed.

Me sleeping in a chair or on the floor.

A constant buzz of midwifes and doctors.

The awful struggle to get you to feed.

The weight loss...you, not me.

The canteen food.

The tears...me, not you.

I felt utterly inadequate.

I couldn't help your mum and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to help you.

Worry.

Panic.

Fear.

Then the love, always the love to see me through.