Five years and more since trying to become a mum and seven months exactly since becoming one

You took your first almighty tumble today, down stairs. I swear my heart stopped for a second as I watched you slowly somersault backwards down the bottom steps in next door's house. Luckily you had no momentum as you'd just been sitting at the top of the steps and tipped backwards, and luckily your bones are soft. You were in a somewhat crumpled pile when I scooped you up then came a long silent inhale... eventually followed by the wail. I cried instantly and just hugged you, desperately looking for any signs of damage while thinking shit shit shit, how will I know if there's damage, how could I have let that happen, took my eye of the ball for a split second, classic mistake.

Luckily you are ok, I on the other hand have been left a little traumatised to the point where a cognac at 10am didn't feel like the wrong thing.

However as I sit here writing you just had a little crying session, which is unusual now once you're tucked up, and it cut through me like a knife. Instant thoughts of brain swelling, internal damage, pain, bleeding, etc. (Note to self, don't watch hospital dramas and learn rare weird medical cases). But you're ok, the dummy had fallen out and you weren't even really awake.

Dear god no-one told me I would be this anxious being a mum... Or did they.

This photo is one of my favourite ways of seeing you, on my knee, engrossed in something. In this instance, some Sesame Street songs on You Tube.