Yesterday morning at 4am my neighbour had a baby boy. He was born at home and I went round to see him this morning - just 29 hours old, snug and warm on his Dad's knee, wrapped in a fluffy blanket fast asleep. His young brother played on the floor with his toys, the atmosphere was peaceful and joyful. Everything had gone well and everyone was happy. He was so beautiful.
And I contrasted it with the babies born in Gaza this week, quadruplets shown on television earlier in the week, born in a shelled hospital, their home destroyed, nowhere to go, no future unless things alter drastically. And I despaired.