When Emily was due, there was an ambulance strike and I was scared that I would go into labour in the back of a black mariah. John went to all the classes, the scans and appointments and was more excited at the prospect than I. On the day I went for my last appt I was told to come in to hospital in the afternoon, so I went home, had my hair done and sent a message to John. He arrived home on the back of a council wagon, ran in and I wasn't there and he panicked. One of my neighbours said I was in the hairdressers and he arrived in a state expecting me to be in labour, but I wasn't. I was admitted in the afternoon and the midwife said to him, I doubt you will be sleeping tonight son, she was right at midnight they sent for him and Emily was born on 17th February, 1990 at 5.15a.m. I can't say he supported me much, he was too interested in what was going on, and the midwife said they would make him an honorary midwife. All I got was push, not anything soothing. Emily was born and was the spitting image of him and she just lay there smiling. From that day, I felt left out, I did all the work and she looked like him and they worshipped each other. No one in the world had a child except us. She certainly made a difference in our lives. He once said, the three happiest days of his life were meeting me, marrying me and Emily's birth. He was a brilliant dad, loving every moment he spent with Emily, taking a full part in her upbringing and education. They had five short years together, but I am sure Emily will remember them as five wonderful years, and she knows just how much she was loved by both of us. I can imagine how he would fit into the role of granddad. Caleb is very much like him in a lot of ways, and Ella is just delightful, she would be just like Emily was. But I feel sure that he is looking down on us and smiling.