You are nearly three. I can scarcely believe that three years ago I had been in labour since the early hours of the morning, with no idea that we would wait another two days until you joined us, and changed us and our world forever.
I will be busy wrapping presents, baking biscuits and cakes and swearing under my breath at fondant icing from tomorrow, so I am writing something for you and to you now. I hope that this will mean more to you, in a few years time, than the Thomas puzzles and toy kitchen and playhouse that you’ll be unwrapping over the next few days. Because you are always on my mind, you see, and I hope that this letter will be something that will last longer than any of those toys.
You were so wanted Blake. We talked and planned and when we found out I was pregnant with you we were over the moon. And from then on, life has been unexpected.
I don’t mean the trials and tribulations – the nine months of sickness, the tricky delivery, the sleep deprivation, the realisation that it is tough being a parent, especially the first time when nothing is anything like you’d imagined.
I mean the positives.
When you were born I had not thought much beyond having a tiny baby and I certainly had no idea of how extraordinary it is to watch your child become a person and make sense of the world. The daily, tiny triumphs as you have mastered something previously unconquered or understanding has dawned on your face.
Because this really is the year that that has happened – from two to three. You have emerged as your own little being – a charming, funny, caring and extraordinarily stubborn child. It has been mine and your Dad’s joy to watch you. I think both of us, before you, would have struggled to name much that we were sincerely, truly proud of. But now, we have you. We are so proud of you and I hope in time you’ll know that. That we will always be proud of you.
You have more conviction than most adults I know. I greatly admire people with conviction – who believe their truth and speak it without fear. That is one of your unique gifts. You will not be swayed or cajoled, bribed or bullied into anything you do not want to do. For a while this was a challenge for me – the countless hours spent murmuring ‘try some banana for Mummy. Eat some cucumber.’ Now it is one of the things I love most about you and I hope you will remain as true and dedicated to your own mind in the future as you are now.
This is the year you have mastered language. It has been a very special thing for me to watch you learn to speak. The first few words rapidly giving way to conversations – inflections that are so clearly mine or your Daddy’s or your Grandparents’. I love chatting with you as we walk to places, drive in the car, sit snuggled on the sofa or have tea together.
All of this I was simply unprepared for. I did not know to expect it and it has been the highest of highs to discover what being your Mum means. Most of all, I was unprepared for the love. I did not expect it to be so fierce. There are times when I watch you deep in your own little world of trains, or peep in at you as you sleep, or watch your face light up as you watch fireworks and laugh your deep hearty chuckle, and my heart swells with the love I have for you and it feels almost too much for me.
You make my heart soar sweetheart, and I love you more than I can say.
All my love,
dazedandmumfused is on Twitter @dazednmumfused and Instagram: dazedandmumfused