This time six months ago I was thirty-seven weeks pregnant with you. I was massive and starting to feel quite uncomfortable, and was beginning to lose faith entirely that you would ever be born.
In fact, if we hadn’t been persuaded to induce the pair of you at thirty-eight weeks I’m pretty sure you would still be tucked up in there, slowly manipulating my ribs out of your way.
We are very glad to have you in the world, little people. You have been good for us.