New York ~ our city of dreams

I don't know if my writing skills will ever convey what I feel about New York.

I walk around the city and I just think, "I'm in New York City." I waste my time thinking just that. It's on repeat in my head.

The noise on the street, the muffled sound in Grand Central, the crisp winter air, the rain, the wind, the car horns, the smell of coffee and pretzels, the crowds, the steam rising from manholes, the helping hand held down to you as you wobbled on the ice rink, the magazine seller wishing passers by "happy holidays" and the Salvation Army, dancing with hand bells singing Jingle Bells gospel style. That's my New York. Iconic, extraordinary, anonymous, yet familiar. A human city. A mash of overlaying cultures coming together to create a unique thing. That thing is part of me and I hope that it has carved a little dent in your soul. 

Experiencing New York with your little hand in mine is something that I will treasure for ever. Watching you take it all in, I felt so blessed. You said "wow!" You shouted "look up Mummy!" You squealed with excitement every time you turned a corner. You pressed your face up to the window of Bergforf Goodman and delighted in the fact that they had used your favourite colour in their Christmas window.

You fell over on the ice rink and cried. Then you asked to go back out again. Then you shouted, "I'm doing it Mummy" as we shuffled our way around the rink. I welled up with happy tears when you said that you were proud of yourself. I am so pleased that you tried again sweetheart. A memory to treasure. 

You are only 5 and probably won't remember our trip. That's why I am writing you this letter. I want you to remember. You will go back. And you will piece together your experiences, your memories, our memories, our stories and our pictures. You will create your own jigsaw of New York. And I just know that you will love it too. 

Sweet dreams baby x

I love New York, even though it isn’t mine, the way something has to be, a tree or a street or a house, something, anyway, that belongs to me because I belong to it ~ Truman Capote

Paris ~ 13th November 2015

Last night there was a series of horrible attacks on innocent people in Paris. Some angry people committed senseless acts of violence in the name of their cause. And that cause is complicated. 

People have been reacting all day to the events of last night. We had a chat about it. You said that the people should have stopped and thought about how scared the people they were hurting were. Then they might not have done it. You also asked me how anybody could hurt someone who is someone's mummy or daddy. All perfectly normal questions. We talked about how some people don't know how to deal with their angry feelings and that sometimes they do bad things to other people. 

You, today - 14th November 2015

I don't have all of the answers. I actually hardly have any! But what I do know is that my natural instinct is to hold you close and pretend that all of this stuff isn't happening. To be scared and to shield you from the world. I won't do that. And I won't tell you that some people don't deserve our compassion, or to live. I feel that we need to break the cycle of violence and see clearly the underlying issues which are dividing our world. Without seeing clearly we react with violence in a fog of our own interpretations. As I said, I don't have the answers but I will always talk to you about what you see and how you feel. I won't cloud your mind with my views but I will encourage you to think about why people do things. You talked about Paris for a while today. Then you told me that something sad happened to you today as well. Whilst trying to eat your sweetie necklace, the knot on the elastic kept going in your mouth! A serious problem if ever there was one.

None of us can fix the world alone but all of us can stop and think about how to learn from it and move on as a community in the shadow of something as horrible as the events in Paris last night.

One thing is true, I am very sad for Paris today.

"Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding" ~ Albert Einstein 

  

The end of a journey

Yesterday, your 5 year Talipes journey ended (apart from a few stretches to do each day). After being cast from your toes to your thigh for the first 4 weeks of your life, to wearing a brace keeping your feet shoulder width apart with a metal bar for 23 hours a day for the next 3 months of your life, to wearing it at night times for the next 4 and a half years, this journey has been your whole little life. As I sit here today, that period of time has been your entire life. I know I've already said that! You couldn't sleep on your side, curl up in a ball, feel your duvet on your feet or get up in the morning. And now you can.

Waiting to be seen in hospital yesterday

I am not going to wax lyrical about how brave you were. Or how unfair it was. Or how strong you've been. I never have. The treatment was brilliant. It didn't hurt. We treated it as part of your life. Your routine. You knew no different and so you never questioned it. What I will do now is celebrate with you that you can now curl up in a ball, feel your duvet on your little feet and get up on your own in the morning and that, my darling, is something worth celebrating. Treasure the little things.

No more boots and bar

The memory I will treasure is you, my little 5 year old girl, walking barefoot along the clinical corridor of the hospital so that they could assess your walking. Your pale little feet on that big cold hospital corridor floor. They looked so vulnerable and I willed everything to be ok until I nearly burst inside. I wanted to hold you forever at that moment. 

And that's it. I started writing these letters to talk to you about your Talipes and they have become so much more than that and given me more joy than I can ever describe to you here. I hope, with all my heart, that you will enjoy them when you're older. Until the next time I write sweetheart, sleep tight, curled up in your little ball x

 

Almost 5!

On your last weekend before you turn 5, we have been to the circus, made pancakes, marshaled at your Parkrun, practiced your cycling, sung songs, been out for lunch and watched films. I am constantly amazed by how quickly my baby is growing up before my eyes. No longer a baby but a little person, grabbing hold of life with both hands and soaking it up. I love that your teddy is currently blindfolded so that you can arrange her surprise birthday party without her seeing. And that you thought your fishes may have been playing tag when one chased the other in the tank today. You are so kind and you always see the best in people (and fish).

My little girl is hurtling towards her 5th birthday bursting with new knowledge, wonderful friendships, more questions than you can imagine, determination, an exploding vocabulary, compassion, imagination, energy and so many dreams. At 4 years 11 months and 20-something days, you are my whole world. 

You have been the sweetest, funniest, kindest, most inquisitive little 4 year old and, whilst I am sad that this is the last time I'll write to you at 4, I cannot wait to meet my 5 year old daughter and see what adventures there are in store for her.

I love you, always x

"If you don't know where you are going any road can take you there" ~ Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland