This is how I remember how I came to be.
I am a spirit, an angel floating in the sky, sitting inside a cloud that feels like cotton wool. I am with all my friends. We are watching the world, deciding who our parents will be.
This does not sound like a birth story my parents would have told me, but for some reason this is what I thought.
We angels had shimmering, golden skin and thick wings. There is a hole in our cloud, like a film screen. Inside the screen, my parents are standing side by side, holding each other, waving at me. They are grinning widely.
I liked the idea that I had this power, that I chose them. I knew that they were meant to be mine. Over the years, I of course realised that this was not how I was born. But when I think of my early life, the image of the sky, and the clouds, and my smiling parents is so very clear that I almost believe it occurred.