Maybe the toughest of all to write about.

Our first few months were difficult. Worse than that, at times they felt impossible. The blissfulness of wanting a baby and actually having one were clearly 2 very different things. You weren’t easy. You wouldn’t take a bottle and I was left literally holding the baby! There wasn’t any let up, You were awake 3-4 times a night every single night for 6 months, you tested my patience to the limits. But already we could see your personality shining through. You smiled for the very first time at 3 weeks !! And you’ve not stopped smiling since !!

When you were 7 months old we had a crazy thought to take you on holiday, we went to France, La Rosiere with friends. For the first time since your birth I left you for more than an hour, it did us both good. You started to sleep through the night and frankly you’ve not stopped since. I had a new found love for you, my love grew and we really started to enjoy you. You were the happiest little girl. You were happy to have cuddles from anyone and even on the flights and very long bus journey (4 hours!) you were good as gold, my perfect little Pwincess !

The next few months went by so quickly and before I knew it I had plans in place to go back to work. We’d found the most amazing childminder for you and you seemed very happy with her. Beginning of April I went back to work, albeit working from home, whilst you went to the childminder. We missed you lots but you seemed happy and it worked.

Then the awful part of that year began. My dad (your grandad) got really ill. I took you with me to their house and the next month or so was a haze. I didn’t know who had you, I didn’t know if you’d been fed or were sleeping ok. I didn’t even ask. I detached myself from you so I could help look after him, so I could tell him all the things I’d wanted to say for so long. So I could try and absorb that he was letting go infront of my eyes and there was nothing I could do about it. I took you in to see him a couple of times. He even smiled in his sleep when you slapped his forehead and I told you off.

He left us all and what he left behind was the biggest void that’s yet to be filled. I spiraled out of control. I didn’t believe your heart could physically hurt like that but mine did, I felt it break. I felt it break to beyond repair. He hadn’t just gone, he’d taken me, all that I was with him. Those moments after he went, more than anything, I wanted to go with him. I felt like that again and again. Who knows what may have happened. But then I came home to you. My beautiful little girl, oblivious to it all. Happily just getting on with it. You’ll never understand how indebted to you I am. How you raised me back up from the ashes, how you taught me to love again. How you made the worst year ever end on a better note. You needed me, I couldn’t go anywhere. With each day I was able to smile, even if just for a few seconds at your giggle or watching you sleep. But you gave me an escape each day and without realising it, your tiny shoulders were carrying the weight of the world it seemed but you handled it like only an angel could.

Physically your first year was actually quite funny. You weren’t in a hurry to go anywhere, no hurry at all. I think you get that from me, a bit of a laid back attitude but you get your determinism from your Dad, once you set your sights on doing something you get it done. By your first birthday you weren’t crawling, you weren’t walking, you only had 2 teeth and you were barely able to sit up on your own !! BUT you were talking, you were saying all sorts of things and we were in awe of your ever changing personality. We also had a few firsts, you had your first haircut just after your first birthday, it was a disaster, I’ve never cut it since but let’s just say bowl cut and little boy come to mind !!

Your blue eyes changed to hazel but your gorgeous porcelain skin remained, you turned into the cutest little girl that loved being cuddled and kissed and always gave back more than you go from everyone. Quite simply it was clear from your first year on this earth you were going to be someone amazing and we were and still are the proudest parents in the world and so very thankful to be a part of your life.

A letter to my darling.

Before you, I never believed I could be lucky. I sat at this keyboard, I typed messages, thoughts, hopes but luck wasn’t something I ever expected. I didn’t believe it would happen. I wanted it to so much but I was so scared to hope for you. And then as I sat here and felt each kick, I couldn’t be closer to anyone else in the world and felt a love I never even knew existed.

We diligently bought all the things you’d need, many trips to John Lewis to see if the pushchair we were debating over was the right one for our soon to be here bundle of joy. Getting a new mattress, going over lists over and over again. Making sure it was all going to be perfect and then occasionally getting to see your little button nose and huge ears (yes you had huge ears even in the scans!). You made it as easy for us as you could, you kicked ALL the time, so we couldn’t forget you were there but you didn’t do much else to make it difficult to have you with us always.

There were times when we doubted. Times when we were scared. I’ll always remember waxing and getting some blood on my towel. I remember your dad walking in and his face dropping. All he said was “not again!” I knew what he meant, he didn’t want to lose another one, he wasn’t ready to lose you too. He was so relieved when I told him, no it’s not the baby, the baby’s kicking ass !! We laughed together. I realised in that moment, although he didn’t say much, you meant the whole world to him already too.

We did so much from the moment you were conceived till your first day here. It was a tough journey to get you though. We lost babies before you, it hurt but not as much as the one we first tried for after we got married. It was April 2013, we’d just moved to a new rental house at the end of March, I somehow convinced your dad we were ready for a baby. I felt so lonely moving to a new area and I missed my family so very much too. I wanted us to create our own family. He agreed and lo and behold the first month, the first test we did, positive. Your dad was shocked, he never quite took it in. I was elated, I was pregnant, we were having a baby. But then within a flash at 8 weeks, it was gone. Waiting in that waiting room I already knew. I felt my heart break, like crack a little. All our hopes and dreams were gone.

Part of a song that I played over and over again and still reminds me of that terrible loss:

“And I don’t even know how I survive
I won’t make it to the shore without your light
No I don’t even know if I’m alive
Oh, oh, oh without you now
This is what it feels like”

I bought a little box, I put silly things I’d already got that baby in it, I sealed it up and I moved on. We moved onto trying for another. We lost more but we were hardened by then. It was all about the fight to have one now and the interim losses felt more like smaller losses to get to the end goal.

We went to Florida on holiday in September, soon after we’d been to Venice for my birthday. We had the most amazing time, we were happy, ecstatically happy and in love. We had a very important appointment with a fertility specialist upon our return and felt like it was all in hand, that specialist would help us to have a baby, that’s what we thought. We went for that appointment, we had a scan and my beautiful beautiful baby, there you were.

We were shocked. I was sad. Scared. I felt on the cusp of losing another but this one felt more important somehow. This one felt like a miracle and I didn’t want to mess things up. I had scans every week from 5 weeks to 13 weeks. I loved those few minutes each week, I loved the bus journey, I used to talk to you in my head. I used to thank you for hanging in there, thank you for not breaking my heart, thank you for picking me.

We told all our friends and family over Christmas, I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t notice the looks. The looks that said “oh here we go again”, “she’ll lose this one too”. But I couldn’t care less, me and your dad we were a family with a plus one and that’s all that mattered. As our bond grew I felt your dad was maybe feeling left out. I took to talking to you on occasion and he didn’t feel part of the conversation. But in his own typical way he took hold of as much as he could, he made sure we had everything we could need after your birth and he planned as much as he could.

When I was 7 months pregnant we moved into our beautiful first home together. My parents (your grandparents) always told me children bring luck and here you were bringing us the luck to buy this house that was out of our dreams. Within the perfect little village, one you’d come to grow to love too.

I’m not going to pretend and say labour was as easy and straight forward as the pregnancy had been, there were moments the doctors, the nurses looked a little scared but not me. I knew you were a fighter, you hadn’t come all this way to let go now. And within a flash you were here, those few hours you lay against me, all quiet in our hospital room was amazing. We both just stared at each other’s faces. Taking in the face behind the voice, absorbing every tiny bit of you and you of me. The stillness, the silence in that room and your searching big eyes, I’ll never forget. You gave me something no-one had ever been able to before you, you made me something no-one could ever take away, you made me your Mummy.