First Comes Love

To my daughter on her birthday,

One year ago today, you were born. One year ago - it seems like both a fraction of second and an eternity ago. It was drizzling at 3:30am as your father and I climbed into a taxi and headed to the hospital. I was wearing my fuzzy pink bathrobe under my coat and my sheepskin slippers, and your dad carried a bag full of clothes and nonsense that that never saw the light of day in the hospital. I must admit I thought little of you for the eight or so hours I laboured. My brain couldn't correlate the pain with another being sharing my body. It just felt pain. It wasn't until I started to push that I began to think of you. I thought of the kicks and rolls in my belly and how your nose matched mine on my 20 week ultrasound. I thought about your eyes. Would they be blue like your dad's? Mostly though, I just wanted to hold you. I wanted you where I could see you.

My memories of you emerging into the world are skewed. My mum (your granny) was able to film it beautifully (ie: not graphically. Very PG). In the video you were immediately placed on my chest, only your umbilical cord was incredibly short, so you ended up on my belly. I cradled my arms around you and said, "hi baby". So deep and insightful, I know! It's all a bit hazy in my mind. My first clear memory of you, YOU in all your awesome baby glory, was when our eyes first met. It was after they had cleaned you up and I reached for you, and in that instant, you knew me. All 7 pounds, 5 ounces of you KNEW me. They tell you that your baby can recognise your voice, but I no idea how powerful a look could be. It was like love at first sight, but the truth is, dear, sweet Eleanor, is that I have loved you long before I met you.

I loved you from the first second I saw your dad as a life partner. I loved you when I peed on three Dollar Store pregnancy tests that all came back negative. I knew they were wrong. I knew you were there, and I loved you even then. I loved you when the word "pregnant" came up on the fancy digital test. I was hooked when I saw that tiny flicker of your heart on my early ultrasound. I loved you when you came to me in a dream and revealed you were a girl (and that poo can go all the way to one's neck - thanks for the heads up!). I loved you when we saw you lounging at 20 weeks, with all your beautiful bones on display. I loved you when you decided you only wanted to kick one spot, high up underneath my ribs. If I concentrate, I can still feel you hammering away there. I loved you then, and I love you now.

I have heard it said that giving birth is like seeing your heart jump out of your body and start walking around. This seems especially true for you. While I don't think we look alike, you have inherited all my features. I could see from the moment you were born, what with a head of dark, dark hair, big almond eyes and a ski-jump nose that you were undeniably my child. As you've grown, you are becoming your own little person. Your little down turned mouth always makes you look a little grouchy, a little bitchy, a little angry. It just relaxes that way, and while this could be seen as a fault, it just makes your smile that much more dramatic. Your whole face changes when you smile. Your whole BODY changes when you smile. You vibrate. Your joyous energy is palpable. You've taken to putting your hands on your knees and throwing your head back when you smile, flashing your three teeth (two top front, and bottom left - aka Ol' Chomper) to whoever is delighting you. Your smile is magic, my little bear.

During this first year of your life, you have been completely dependent on me and your dad. Often at night I will bring you into my bed and try to comfort you as best I can. Lately though, I have been getting into YOUR bed and having you stroke MY arm, and it feels almost like the roles are reversed. Perhaps we are also dependent on you. Love is a two-way street and your love keeps us unbelievably happy. Our hearts are constantly growing to accommodate all this love we have for you, and sometimes it hurts. Sometimes we need to feel your soft hand on our cheeks to ease the pain. Sometimes we need to hear you chuckle over a bouncing balloon to help the stretching of heart muscles. It is truly amazing how big you have made my heart.

I love how you are instantly calmed in my arms. I love how you instantly calm me.

It wasn't puppy love I felt one year ago. It was a deep-seated, old love, a kindred spirit kind of love that I felt. You were always there, so it was the most natural thing in the world to love you, baby girl.

Happy Birthday, birthday buddy. I look forward to many more with you.

Love you always,
Mum