Hard to believe it, but it really is 16 years since I woke from the anaesthetic to see W holding E in his arms. I recognised her from the shape of her heel, which had pushed against me for several months. The tiny scar on her cheek still bears witness to the fact that she nearly didn't make it; the emergency caesarian was enforced by her absent heart beat, resulting in nurses "running" me on a trolley down to the theatre. The surgeon apologised profusely for the cut; we were just so grateful that she had made it.
16 years on and that beautiful baby is a young woman. I am so proud of her, love her so much, and am so grateful for her. Happy sixteenth birthday, E!