Sometimes, weeks, even months, will pass when the best we can manage is a late-night trip to the supermarket. Having another baby will be like letting a wild animal into our life. Apart from sex, almost everything we do together is about us as a mother and a father. Those two blue lines turned into a pregnancy and then a birth as Lester arrived, shining and perfect in our lives. Absolved from being a mother, I am someone different: less harassed and calmer. I miss the people we were, before we became carers. The children chatter away to him all the time and I am pushed aside like a silenced scullery maid whose role is to wipe surfaces, find shoes and carry coats. Sex is the place we can find one another again. But it will also take up so much of my brain and my life, that however much I want it, I know another child will stop me having the thoughts I want to have, and, to a great extent, living the life I want to lead.