I’m organising a birthday party for Ché. I admit that it’s probably more for my amusement than his. I know that he’ll enjoy the balloons and sweet treats but in creating this celebration I am hoping to create a memory. I know that one day, sometime soon, he will look at photos of his 1st birthday party and see love and happiness. I hope so.

It is also a chance for family and friends to gather and to recognise the part they have played in Ché’s first year. A chance to “play games and eat yummy food” and the perfect opportunity to dress-up…and make a teepee.

As I plan this little ‘do I am spending much of my time reflecting on the past year and subsequently feeling slightly emotional. It just goes so fast. I am busily finishing his photo album and collecting thoughts in his ‘baby book’. I am thinking about the big belly I had this time last year and the rising anticipation that was so palpable. I am reflecting on the incredibly clear memories of labour and birthing – the rise and the fall of contractions, the deep breathing, the soft haze surrounding my whole being. And of course, those fragile moments after birth when I first held him to my chest, my heart. He cried and as soon as Daniel started talking he stopped his wailing and looked straight into Daniel’s eyes. It was a magic moment – immediate recognition of his father.

One year on and I’m feeling the need to celebrate. Indeed, a wonderful year.