Four years ago – completely spent – blood transfused into me in a frantic effort to allow me to walk – I lay on a hospital bed having given birth the day before.
To the joy of my family I had brought them a son.
Blue balloons foretold a man in the making.
Not just the apple of my eye but the one who would one day open jam jars for me.
The hero who would do the DIY and put out the rubbish.
He who was born to be strong because he is male.
But then physical strength can be defined in different ways.
What I was yet to learn was that beneath our skin women bubble with a source of power that even science has yet to fully understand.
We are better survivors than men.
What’s more we are born this way.