The blissful fog of sleep was lifting, filtering a cacophony of sounds into my subconscious. There laughter and there was delight, but I lay alone, desperate to stave off unwelcome wakefulness. I didn’t want to succumb to reality and join in the happiness in my lounge room. I didn’t want to face the world that existed outside my bedroom. Because that would mean acknowledging the ugly truth that I had not yet bonded with my son.

The thought of it weighed me down, seeming to pin me to the bed. Instead of overflowing with elation, as I’d always envisaged, guilt sent me back beneath my bedcovers.

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