For the past year and a half, I've thought a lot about babies. I've thought about their curling fingers and tiny toes; I've thought about the way John smiles so shyly at the sight of one and kisses their cheeks so gently; I've thought about the soft suckling noises that they make softly in their sleep; I've cried at the sight of a breastfeeding mother in Ikea.
Mostly, I've pondered the incredible sequence of chances that precede their conception, and the even greater sequence of miracles that precede their birth, and I've come to appreciate, more than ever, the immense and unlikely miracle of new life.
And so, when tiny baby Jacob was born into this world weighing just 3lb 7oz, and making my friend's life complete, I knew I had to make something special to honour his arrival. I had to sit and stitch his name in blue thread and I had to cut tiny stars from scraps of fabric and stitch them onto soft white fleece.
Not because he needed it or wanted it or because I'm especially good at sewing, but because his presence here is astounding, his existence is a miracle, and my tiny, imperfect stitches were the only way I could think of to show it.