In between weddings, writing articles, meetings and shoots, the youngest of my children, twins Henry and Flora, managed to turn 18. I woke to confront the fact that I was no longer the mother of four small dependents, but instead, somehow, I’ve managed to bring all of them to adulthood, and that they are all adults I am insanely proud of. I still clearly see in my memory, the first time I saw each of their faces. How all of them on entering the world, fixed upon me with wide open eyes. George actually, only had one open eye – the other was still stuck down. As we each held our gazes, I felt what so many women must feel – a sort of primeval understanding that we knew each other. Each individual character was there before me, each a miracle of life. Until that second, the new baby is an unknown – but the moment they enter the world – you can feel the shift in the room – another person has come into the room – and in that first look, the character is there.

Often over the years I have been asked “four children?! How do you manage”! But I never once felt that bringing up four children was a trial, or tiresome. I loved it when they were little. I loved watching them alone and I loved watching them interacting with each other. I adored each little personality, and felt blessed beyond belief as I saw traits such as kindness, honesty and creativity develop in each child. Don’t get me wrong, none of them were angels for much of the time! But if a successful society is built on a firm moral framework, then I can see that all of them have that intact.

I can’t really remember my life pre children – that is to say, I remember sequences of events, I remember people, I remember all the usual things one would expect to remember. But I can’t remember me – what sort of person was I? For since becoming a mother, everything I do, plan or wish for, always involves thoughts of my children somewhere.

When my mother came to the hospital to see her first grandchild, she took one look at me and said two things. The first was that now “you will really understand what worry is” and the second was that for the first time in my life “you look happy – as though you are complete”.

And both things were true. The capacity to worry, really worry, definitely comes when you give birth. And whereas before the worry was entirely self-centred, in one second, it shifts to centre around others, your babies. And that worry doesn’t lessen! It changes… but it’s always there. In the early days, the worry would be, ‘are they getting enough breast milk’, “are they too hot” “are they still breathing”.. Now the worry is, “will they find work that satisfies them”, “will they remember never to get into a car where the driver has been drinking or taking drugs”, “will they find someone to be with who makes them happy and who loves them”.

Last week I went to Leeds for a short visit. I was very confident leaving them all at home (did I mention that they’ve all returned home to live)? After all, they were now ranging in age from 18 to 22.  They can cook, clean, sort out the dogs, the boiler, and the locking up of the house when they go out. But the moment I got home, at 11.30pm on the Sunday night, I could smell guilt everywhere. None of them would meet my eye, all denied there was anything wrong, all giggled a little nervously when I asked what was going on. And then it emerged. All four had been and got an identical tattoo…. The mummy in me remembers their perfect skin, how lovingly I bathed them, dressed them, carried them, rocked them to sleep and kissed their scrumptious little bodies for years. Now they had let a stranger mark them with a needle and indelible ink. “But mum”! they protested. “We thought you like to see proof that we’re all so close! We actually planned this for weeks”!

Yes they are close. Yes they socialise with each other. Yes I am very glad that I came home to identikit children and not something really terrible. But when I go away again in future, I will be adding “no facial or body piercings” and “no further tattoos” to my list of Do’s and Don’ts in Mum’s absence.

Remember to click on Isabelle to take you to the next post in our wonderful circle!