About ten minutes after I wrote that last entry, Jeremy and I headed off for a very late breakfast at Atlas.

“They’ll be out of blueberry bagels,” I said gloomily.

“Yes,” said Jeremy. “They’ll have nothing left but poo bagels.”

I laughed so hard, my water broke. We never made it to Atlas. Claire was born fifteen hours later, at 3.42am on Christmas Day. We’re home now, and she’s curled up in her sling as I type.

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