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Our life as a family of three really started when we got home. It took time for me to recover after the c-section, but Henry was the most amazing, hands-on dad. He helped with everything and he loved it. When she cried, because her tummy hurt, he sang to her and walked around with her. When I needed rest, he took over. He talked to her, read her stories and doted on her every minute. He was the perfect dad and I was so grateful that he got to experience fatherhood. He was made for it. 

When I wasn't busy with Emmie, I slept or wrote on my book. When I had healed properly, I started going for long walks with Emmie napping in the pram. We slowly, but steadily found our feet as parents and although life had changed a lot, we were happy. 

I felt fulfilled in a way I never knew was possible. I had spent so many years in the wrong, not considering that my own happiness could be found elsewhere with someone who wasn't Adam. Somehow I ended up running a race I couldn't finish. Henry saw me for who I was, and with him there was no race, it was more like a pleasant stroll, hand in hand. All he asked of me, was to love him, and I did, more than anything.

***

Emmie grew so quickly and before we even blinked she was almost 6 months old. She was a bundle of joy, a happy baby with brown curls and hazel eyes; brown with hints of green and gold. She was a beautiful little girl, and that was not just coming from me as her mother. People generally thought so. To me she looked like Henry. He always said she looked like me, but I saw him in her features. She had the same dimples, the same cheeky smile. Her eyes would gleam when she was happy, just like his. When he sat and played with her the resemblance was prominent. He would make faces at her and she would giggle and mimick his faces. My heart was full and I was truly happy. 

I wrote as often as I could. I wouldn't let it take time from our family, but when I had a moment to myself I would write on our story. I sent chapters to Gemma and she gave me feedback and helped me along in my writing process. It had been so long since I last wrote something, I was rusty and needed guidance and Gemma was just the woman to do so. 

Henry knew I was writing, but he respected my process and said that he looked forward to reading what I had written, when I was ready to share it with him. Until then he just loved that I had refound my passion for writing. I was grateful that Henry was so supportive and good to me. The space he gave me to write, meant that I suddenly had the first draft of my book ready. Gemma's feedback on the last chapter was: "Get that to an agent, now." I felt like I had written something special, even if it was only special to me. It was my love letter to Henry. My thank you for changing my life, for giving me a child, for saving me and for seeing me. 

I got in contact with a literary agent, who read my draft and called me back to let me know, that if I was up to it, she would move on to a publisher with it straight away. Things progressed very quickly, but I was proud of what I had made, and I wanted to share it with the world. I wanted everyone to know our story. So I dove into the project, met with a publishing firm and designed the cover with a graphic designer. Everything was falling into place and I was proud of myself.

***

We were planning Emmie's first trip to England, when the box arrived. The first edition of my book, neatly packaged in a brown box. Henry opened the door and brought the box in. "It's for you, love," he said and took Emmie from my arms. He held her up in the air, making her squeel with joy. I opened the box and felt my stomach flutter, as I caught a glance of the cover.

"It's actually for you," I said and danced off with Emmie to another room and left him with the box.

My dedication was simple:

For H

You Saw Me and I Saw You.

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