“No pressure,” I said to all my daughters.

“Take as long as you want. Only have kids when you’re ready.”


Then along came Harvey.

The little miracle who undid all my fears and captured my heart from the moment I held his tiny, tiny body in my arms.

He was born 7 weeks early, and right from the start he proved he was a winner.

While other babies struggled along with oxygen and drip feeds, Harvey broke all the records for independence.  He lapped up his mother’s milk.  Tore out the drip feed line from his nose. Waved his arms and refused to be wrapped.  Slept, fed, grew and came home after only 3 weeks in hospital.

Now he’s 6 months old. His solemn gaze when I first appear, and the gradual smile that spreads over his little face when he realises it’s Nan – they just melt my heart every time.

What a lucky little boy – to have such wonderful parents, learning and growing with him; To be a fighter and a winner; To have so many people who adore him.

Today I’m grateful for Harvey.  Who said I’m not ready to be a grandma?

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