Laying my tiny baby down on her changing mat, I rubbed a baby wipe over her super-soft skin. It was April 2017 and just a day before, I’d given birth to Caitlin. Now, back at our Birmingham home, I was getting her ready for bed.
‘I’ve got a clean vest,’ my older daughter, Janey, said, kissing Caitlin gently. Then eight, Janey was delighted to be a big sister. She helped me dress Caitlin, then I laid her down in her crib.
My partner Richard, 34, and I gazed at Caitlin while she slept. I was exhausted, but it didn’t matter. I was just so happy that she’d arrived. My perfect family.
Yet later, while waiting for the community midwife to arrive, Caitlin started making a strange whimpering sound. She didn’t…
