In the final weeks of my second pregnancy I felt sad. It was a strange time. I was eager to meet the new little being who kicked and wriggled in my enormous tummy, but I was conscious that my one on one time with my first born, G, was coming to an end. I held her closer and wanted to enjoy every last moment; soon things would change. I worried for our new baby, I couldn’t imagine how I could ever love anyone as much as I loved G.

I drank raspberry leaf tea as if my life depended on it. I spent a lot of time bouncing on a fit ball, albeit ungraciously. We had curry every night for a week. I went for acupuncture. I re-read my birthing book. I talked about my birth plan … a lot … to anyone who would listen willingly (and one who had no choice).

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