08/08/2026
Oliver's birthday always comes around with a flutter of emotions and peculiar memories.
First and foremost, he was a very poorly little soul when he was born, and I remember the lack of movement the day that he was born, I knew to push on and ignore the "he's getting ready to be born/there is less room for movement" comments and I took myself to a&e insisting for a scan, and although the team weren't convinced there was an issue, they did want to induce me but being stressed and in a heatwave in the midst of the pandemic, I went into labour that day, and he was whizzed off to a London hospital soon after.
Aside from that element, his birth takes me back to the pandemic and all the bizarre goings on and lifestyle changes. A time where we couldn't hug a friend, we couldn't be out of the house and shopping was considered normal to stand in a queue around the carpark or an online queue of 43,000 to buy a tub of paint to make use of being at home.
Such a bizarre account of memories surround Oliver's birth, and the time that followed as he went through his baby months with the world somewhat upside down.
