For nearly 4 weeks I lived with my mother as I recovered from major surgery. Like a bird with a broken wing, I crept back to my old nest and my mother spread out her tired wings and sheltered me.

​

The days were filled with a tenderness that only exists between a mother and her child, and to Mum I will always be a child.

​

As the days passed and I learned to fly again, my wings would brush against hers and inevitably some flapping would occur, for there can be only one adult female in a harmonious nest.

​

Yet we emerged from this extraordinary period of togetherness with the knowledge that no matter what type of bird a mother hatches, love can triumph.

The following blogs tell the story of our days together—with this, the first blog, telling the story of my time in hospital before knock knock knocking on heaven’s door.