We’ve done birthdays and anniversaries in hospital before,

Easter and almost Christmas too

but this is the first time since Ivy and Noah were born

that we’ve celebrated their birthday here.

It’s a little bit sad,

kind of symbolic

but not altogether miserable.

The nurses and the new doctor have been wonderful -

I cannot fault their care for the girl

and all of our friends, who we’ve come to know on this journey

have wished the pair a happy day.

Noah is arriving tonight for a sleepover with his sister

and breakfast has been organised

so that when they wake they are together.

Just as it should be.

I mean, it’s not perfect or ideal

but we’re making the best of it all.

The Captains from Starlight, who reside in our hospital

have come for the last two days to decorate Ivy’s room

and make her laugh

and Ivy gets better and stronger each day.

Seven used to be my favourite number before William died

and then it wasn’t

but I still love this age.

This funny,

nonsensical,

whimsical age

where they wonder at the world

and everything is like a new adventure.

I love them too.

On the day they were born I wondered what it would be like,

how I would be

with two tiny babies to care for along with my grief

and my five other sweethearts who needed me too

but they’ve been my completion, really.

They are my biggest adventure so far.

So happy birthday, my gorgeous pair.

I hope seven is as exciting as you are to me

and as wonderful as ice cream and pancakes

with sweet, sticky syrup on your birthday morning.