I HAD NO MEMORY OF THEM

I watched, helpless, as the nurse came in carrying a little bundle wrapped in a white, cotton blanket and yellow hat. Closing my eyes, I shook my head furiously. I didn’t want to see or touch this baby that the nurses and my husband, Dean, then 36, kept insisting was mine. ‘I called him Frank, like we agreed,’ Dean smiled as the nurse lifted baby Frank gently down on to my chest. It was July 2019 and, although Dean was telling me I’d given birth to Frank two weeks earlier, I didn’t remember any of it. Instead, I looked down at this tiny baby on my chest like he was