‘We’ll try to encourage it tomorrow,’ she informed, ‘but don’t even think about it right now.’

I felt anxious about ever being able to get out of this bed. The feeling was beginning to return to my legs, thank goodness. But at this moment I was a very long way from being self-sufficient and that was a scary state for a control freak like me.

Much as we tried, breastfeeding didn’t come easily to either me or Albie. With every attempt, even those supervised by the ward’s breastfeeding expert, or a kindly midwife in the small hours of that first night, he seemed to get more flustered. From the word go my nipples were agony. At one point he somehow managed to draw blood, and he didn’t even have any teeth. I wasn’t sure how this was possible. We both became agitated, had a little cry, and gave up. The nurses wondered if he had tongue-tie and he became very distressed when they took him off to check. I waited in bed, the sound of his screams ripping my insides apart as he disappeared down the corridor with strangers, albeit helpful, caring ones who only had the best intentions.

Tuesday 25^th May

My parents visited the next morning, just when I had managed to give him a small amount of colostrum administered via a miniature plastic syringe, after having spent the best part of an hour extracting a few meagre drops from the less painful of my breasts. It was excruciating and I was in tears throughout.

After staying with me at the hospital as late as he could last night, Oscar had gone home to rest and shower; there seemed little point in us both getting minimal sleep. I told him not to rush back as it would be easier for my parents to come when he wasn’t there because it was still a little awkward between us, due to the fact that they didn’t seem to want to accept that Oscar wasn’t the father of this baby. Explaining to my parents that I had undergone IVF using sperm donated by an anonymous male, and that Oscar had agreed to bring up the baby with me, as if it were his own, had been difficult for them to process. Could you imagine if I had told them the full version of events?

When I saw Mum and Dad enter the ward, I thought I had just about got myself together. They brought packets of fudge, a mini bottle of prosecco and a couple of books, none of which was what I needed right now. How would I have the time or energy to read a book, when I couldn’t even feed my own baby properly? What I needed was a hug, but my parents had never been those kind of people. They were copers, not compassionates. I also wasn’t prepared for their appearance to bring back such visceral emotions from the past. While I could see joy in their faces as they met their longed-for grandson for the first time, I felt the moment was tinged with anguish for them – and for me. It brought back some raw memories for us all. As they stood by my bedside, tears welled up in my eyes again and I couldn’t hold them back. I sobbed and sobbed, every gasp pulling roughly at my C-section wound, giving me even more pain, my eyes all puffy, my nose running. Mum eventually passed me a tissue and I managed to get myself together. Mercifully, Albie remained asleep in the bassinet beside me the whole time.