So yesterday the NHS turned seventy. The NHS in which, according to the World Wide Web, I was baby number 21,603,528. An NHS which has provided care for my family in friends and in which Darcy was baby number 38,886,277 and Tilly was baby number 42,222,615. Of course Tilly’s story turned out to be very different from Darcy’s ongoing adventure, but the NHS shaped her story and she was provided with excellent care in a state of the art hospital. I am certain that, perhaps even within my generation, she may not have lived as long as she did as knowledge and technology surpasses all expectations, and where medical science continues to advance to the point where we are living longer than ever.

There is an incomprehensible ethical discussion about the limits of medical science which I would not even attempt to enter but one thing I am sure of is that we are so fortunate to have the NHS and health care that is ‘free at the point of access’ and does not discriminate, an NHS staffed by people who are passionate about what we do. Do not take your NHS for granted, do not let it get underhandedly and slyly privatised beneath our noses. Fight for it. I, for certain, will fight for a system that meant we got to spend four weeks with our beautiful girl, and a system in which I have the privilege of welcoming new life into the world.

The NHS. Miracles. Everywhere. Every day.

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