I want to do it all again, I tell Daddy. His face full of fear. Yes, the pain was awful, yes I am still healing (some parts will not) and yes, it was completely terrifying but I can do it. Daddy is worried. He’s frightened of what happened last time (it was scary for him) but we both know it was worth it. Just look at your brother, he’s more brilliant than the brightest diamond. So after a lot of going round in circles, we got brave, really brave and decisions were made. Good decisions, happy ones and in no time at all that little box showed us two blue lines again and we knew things were going to get interesting. We’re nervous too. Can we be so lucky? It feels like tempting fate, but there’s more good news…it’s a girl. A ‘full set’ people say. We are counting down the days until we get to see your beautiful face when Mummy gets some bad news (I’ll explain it when you’re older) and the doctors want us to make some hard decisions about the future. We decide to be brave and plough on regardless, with a nervous thought in the back of our minds. Each day I wake up with you inside my belly, it feels like I’m walking around with a permanent cuddle and I know I made the right choice. What a feeling. My belly is so swollen that I am sure the skin will split, but my body keeps expanding for you and so does my heart. Like my body, you are strong. It’s impressive. I spend night after night for a whole month, pacing the living room at 3am because you seem to be practising your exit and while I’d appreciate a bit of kip, I’m secretly glad that you’re preparing for the big day. It makes me feel more confident that we can do it as a team. We can, baby girl and we will. And then bam, you’ve decided that tonight is the night. You’re not mucking about anymore. Practice is over. It is time to say hello and you are not pulling any punches. You kick out all that water that’s kept you safe and snug. It’s everywhere. There’s so much of it and it just keeps on coming. It’s a proper movie-scene amount, not like the tiny trickle with Bear where I thought a little bit of wee had escaped. Things are ramping up at a speed of knots. Push. Squash. Push. Squash. Phone calls are made, no buggar answers. I panic, slightly. Daddy will faint if he has to deliver you. Finally somebody answers and I am so grateful. Phew. We’re off. Daddy is breaking all the speed limits to get us to the hospital so that a nice midwife can help us bring you into the world safely, although it feels like you don’t need any help, my darling. You are the Serena Williams of babies. You are a force. You can do this regardless of Mummy. But wait, what’s this? The hospital is locked? We can’t get in! I’m doubled over. Ring ring, nobody answers the phone. It’s a common theme for us now. I can hardly talk at this point and I’m freaking out. I’ll end up on ‘This Morning’, telling the story of how you popped out in the car park, while a woman having a fag, hooked up to a drip, watches the whole thing. Ring ring, someone answers. Breathe. Daddy explains that we’re locked out and it’s crunch time but the person on the other end of the phone can’t help because they can’t leave the ward. What??!!! We just have to wait for security to come back. What???!!! It takes an age, then all of a sudden there’s a ‘WHOOSH’. The door opens. What a relief. I’m in. You’re almost out. My legs won’t move as fast as I need them to and you seem to have no regard for where you make your entrance but we somehow make it up to the ward to be checked over. Yep, you’re definitely in labour – you think? There’ll be no drugs though. The midwife says I don’t need them because it’s going to be quick. But I want them. I’m not sure my pain threshold is strong enough to withstand the speed of these contractions. There’s no break, they’re back to back. Another one starts before the first has even finished. Daddy says it’ll be ok because they’ll get me some drugs but I know that’s a lie. The midwife has absolutely no intention of getting me any pain relief, despite me asking really nicely for it. I’m pushing, you’re pushing. A doctor comes in to keep an eye on things because this part wasn’t so great last time and your stats are not quite as they should be but it doesn’t matter because you are eager and unwilling to hang around any longer. It feels like my body is crushing so hard that you are going to come out of my mouth, every ounce of my being is at work. I tell them you’re coming but they tell me I’m wrong and try to turn me onto my side. But you are coming and the second I turn the midwife says ‘you were right, baby’s head’s here, we’re delivering now’. I told you so! It’s kind of hard not to notice a head popping out of your faff! In no time at all your head is out followed fairly quickly by your body. You are a firework. You are magnificent. We cuddle and you immediately look for food. You are incredible. I cannot believe what a force of nature you are. I’m in awe. Happy birth day. It is International Day of The Girl. How apt. There’s stitching to be done and boy does that hurt (of course I already knew that) but I couldn’t care less right now. None of it matters while we lay here, creation at its finest. You and I decided, long before we met, to stick together no matter what and I’m so glad we did. There’s nothing you and I cannot do, Posey Violet Bunni. You are strength, you are fire and you are love and I am so happy to live in your breathtaking shadow.