My hand on my ever increasing belly, my husband holding me around the waist as we walk through the nursery. The cries of the little babies bring tears to my own eyes.

I look at each precious child, watching her eyes light up, watching his legs kicking with excitement. Their pink flesh and perfect innocent made me smile, as if my heart was now truly whole.

The birth certificates on each incubator read the names these babies will carry as children and then adults. I see little George, a lawyer. Anna, a schoolteacher. Bridget, a blonde-haired little angel. Lyric, a creature gifted with music. Then I see her, a cooing little darling, her legs kicking and her eyes sparkling blue. She is absolutely perfect, she is brilliance. Her name uniquely hers, like her: Bronwyn.