There are many different forms of love: the love for a parent, a sibling, a friend, or a partner. But, in my opinion, there is no greater love than that of a parent for their child.
When I was pregnant with my daughter, I suffered a devastating blow – I miscarried her twin. It was touch and go for a while as to whether I would manage to keep hold of the second baby, but as the days marched on without further incident, things looked more hopeful. And as the days turned into weeks, then months, it appeared the danger had passed.
Fifteen days before my due date, my waters broke, but I never went into labour. After just four contractions in eight hours, I was told I needed a caesarean section and was prepped for surgery.
When my daughter was laid in my arms for the first time, I fought my way through the haze of the anaesthetic. I just had to look at her, and as I stared into her beautiful eyes, a swell of love like I’d never known before surged through me.
As each day passed, my love for her grew stronger – and still does twenty-six years later.
Every day I feel blessed to have created such a wonderful person. I adore my daughter and would gladly give up my life for her, if I had to. And that’s how it should be!