Touch: A nail on the softest pink hand scratches her face. She doesn’t cry but I kiss her anyway. I can’t stop.
Smell: The scent of me still on her matted black hair.
Taste: She mooches for milk. I haven’t slept in 49 hours. Or is it 50?
Sound: Come on in Mrs Martin. Your baby has failed her new born hearing screening test. Could be wax from her traumatic birth. No need to panic.
Sixth sense: I stare at my silent baby, just two days old. I know.