Just over 7 years ago I sat in front my computer screen in the late evening whist expressing milk with an industrial pump that would service a herd of cows, and I Googled 'Down's syndrome' for the very first time.
Our new baby girl lay in a Neo-natal Intensive Care incubator, where I had left her in the loving hands of nurses for the night after sitting by her side for the last 10 hours, as I did every day. Each night I dashed home and played at 'usual routine' with our firstborn Mia; cooking dinner, playing, doing puzzles, reading stories. How could she, at 2 years old, understand why Mummy and Daddy were spending long stretches of time at the hospital? why Grandma was shipped in to help look after her? why her new baby sibling was not at home? why Mummy and Daddy looked so very very worried?