As my baby girl was placed in my arms, I smiled through tears – I was exhausted, but I’d never been happier.
After a devasting miscarriage, my longed-for little girl was finally here.
Born at 7.14am on 7 November last year, weighing in at 7lbs, she was happy and healthy, which was all that mattered to me.
‘Isn’t she perfect?’ I smiled at my partner Paul.
‘She really is,’ he said, softly stroking her chubby cheeks.
We named her Molly.
My older girls – Leah, 12, and Kacey, 11 – were so excited, too.
We’d decked out a corner of our bedroom for her, and as I placed her into her crib and she gurgled back at me, my heart was full.
I settled into life as a mum-of-three, and got used to the newborn stage again.
But one day,
