There are other things you can’t see that I love about it too. My mother and father – long separated but still close – had raced each other in deadly earnest down the corridor and across the ward to get to our bedside first and meet their first grandchild; she won, of course. That makes me laugh, but also makes me feel fiercely loved. I also can’t quite see, but absolutely remember, the full body relief I felt when she arrived. I had an easy birth, but it was followed by a rough, restless night in a ward full of babies who tag-teamed their screaming. I recall staggering, leaking alarmingly, to the loo, and alternating between trying to feed this angry, hairy enigma and haggardly eyeballing a lifetime of responsibility in the odd moments he slept. Then there she was: the cavalry. This picture marks probably the first moment I fully exhaled in 12 hours.