Seven Aprils ago, my first son was born. I went into hospital at the end of a long, heavy winter, and came out into a spring so bright and clear that we barely dressed those first few weeks, my transition into milk machine aided by the lack of London's usual required layers of clothing.
A Belated Love Letter to April
A Belated Love Letter to April
A Belated Love Letter to April
Seven Aprils ago, my first son was born. I went into hospital at the end of a long, heavy winter, and came out into a spring so bright and clear that we barely dressed those first few weeks, my transition into milk machine aided by the lack of London's usual required layers of clothing.