Tuesday, 20 September 2011
Five is such a very big number when you are a very tiny little girl. A little girl with masses of personality under the masses of hair that bounce with every step and blaze like little flames under the sun. It was 5 years ago today that I lay shocked and elated, curled up with my beautiful baby girl and wanted to do it all again. Pregnancy, birth, babies. The whole lot. Because she made me want to do it again.
I was still a student then, cosseted by regular holidays and no penalties for skipping a day. I knew so little except for the dreams that I had for me and for my little family. I could not dream then, of how hard I would work, of how little I would sleep and of how strange my life would be. Or how it would feel to wake up every morning with those bright auburn curls wedged under my chin, and know that I'm so incredibly lucky to be living the life I have.
To come home late from my evening ward round and ice a princess cake at 11pm just because the look in her eyes this morning was completely worth it. To hear the laughter in the mornings and the funny stories. Her made up songs and the noms that she makes when she's eating her favourite meals.
She is cheeky and naughty and far too clever - so ready for school that she's bursting with it. She makes rainbows and robots and races around like a loon. She's sprouted these arms and these legs that stretch further every time I look at her and she loves Squish Rabbit and her Charlie dog. She is so fiercely herself, that it awes me, and reminds me, even when I feel like I'm failing, that if we've created this amazing creature, that we must be doing something ok.
And every time I'm having a hard day, when I hear the jingle on my wrist of her tiny bell, I'm reminded of what I have. Of what is waiting for me at home. And it makes it all so very worthwhile.
Happy Birthday Monkey Girl