When my daughter was born and I was thrown into motherhood , it was like a haunting.

I went into hospital to give birth in the middle of the night and emerged some time later in daylight blinking – stunned and shellshocked, completely speechless as I gazed at the tiny bundle swaddled in the car seat in soft blankets. Driving home with her for the first time, the weight of love and responsibility was so heavy on my shoulders I almost couldn’t breathe.

It was crushing – a horrifying, all-consuming, atavistic love. The kind of love you almost can’t bear to look at. The kind that roots you to the spot; that makes you wake up every twenty minutes in a blind panic to check that they are breathing, that they are still here, that you didn’t dream them. It is the kind of love that walks hand

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