14 June 2013

Dear Molly....

This is a letter for you to read when you're bigger and for me to look back on in years to come when little details of our lives may have faded from my memory. 

For a lot of years I didn't want a baby. I was busy with work and didn't feel grown up enough to look after a little person. Then one day, I did.

From the moment you existed to the present day you have been my insides, my everything. It feels like I gave birth to a part of me that I now have to keep safe because without it, I'd die. It might sound a bit dramatic but it's nature. Parents get swept away in a tidal wave of love. And that happened to me, with you.

Somehow you manage to make me laugh and cry with a perfect mixture of your wonderful, gentle nature and your very serious two and a half years of life experience. You might not still have her when you're reading this but now you have a comforter called Right Bunny (there was a Wrong Bunny once too) and you cuddle her when you're sad, tired or scared. We had a lovely chat together about her the other day. It went like this:

You: I want Right Bunny Mummy.
Me: When you're bigger you won't need Right Bunny so much.
You: But I could hug her with my big girl hands.
Me: Yes you could darling.
You: Now I will hug her in my little girl hands.

You understood the essence of growing up and you summarised it perfectly in your two and a half year old way.

You question everything and the amount you're learning amazes me every single day. The other day you recited the whole of your book 'I want my hat back' to me. You remembered more of it than I did and I read it a LOT! 

I love reading with you. When I read 'How to catch a star' you get sad for the little boy when he can't find a star and then you're delighted when he gets one of his very own. You wanted a star of your very own so I made you one out of foil and card. Now, whenever I finish the story, you proudly tell me that you have a star of your very own and that Mummy made it for you. I'm glad I could do that.

It upsets me when people close to me are hurt, scared or sad. That feeling has increased tenfold in relation to you but, more touchingly, I see that trait in you. You cry when other children cry. You get distressed when the penguin gets left on his own at the South Pole in 'Lost & Found' and you stroke him on the page. And when I am sad you rub my arm and say "don't worry Mummy". Your capacity to care and empathise is something I'm so proud of.

We like to sing You Are My Sunshine, Maybe Tomorrow (from the Littlest Hobo which was my favourite programme when I was little), Incy Wincy Spider and Twinkle Twinkle (you call it Binkle Binkle). Your singing is very sweet. I love that you can sing along with me to Baby Mine. A sweet reminder that I've sung it to you nearly every day since you were born.

I will never tire of your little face, your crazy curls, your high pitched voice, your constant chatter and your lovely nature. I feel like bursting with love for you every minute of every day.

None of this is unique and parents everywhere will feel exactly the same, I'm sure, but it is unique to me and I wanted to tell you.

Lots of love Mummy x

"Baby Mine" 

Baby mine, don't you cry.
Baby mine, dry your eyes.
Rest your head close to my heart,
never to part, baby of mine.

Little one, when you play,
pay no heed what they say.
Let your eyes sparkle and shine,
never to tear, baby of mine.

If they knew all about you,
they'd end up loving you too.
All those same people who scold you,
what they'd give just for the right to hold you.

From your head down to your toes,
you're not much, goodness knows.
But, your soul precious to me,
sweet as can be, baby of mine.

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