YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL

Bustling down the stairs, my then three-year-old daughter, Laila, was holding a wet wipe over her face.

‘What have you got there,’ I laughed, before noticing that there was a patch of foundation on the wipe.

‘I hate it Mummy,’ she cried, pointing to the birthmark that was sagging down her face.

She’d clearly gone into my bedroom and taken my makeup from my desk, in the hopes to cover it up.

‘You’re beautiful darling,’ I soothed, but she was miserable.

I first noticed the birthmark when