If children are first conceived in the mind of a parent, then I dreamed you into being at around 5 years old. Holding my toy doll with knitted purple clothing and pretending to feed it a bottle.
I felt you arrive when I was only 2 weeks pregnant. I sat on the stairs with one of your cousins and felt the love and connection that we would have. I remember feeling teary.
Then I bled. I was about 8 weeks pregnant. I was told to not expect to see a heartbeat. I had to wait three days to see if you were still there. I held my breath. I told myself it was fine if you were there and fine if you had left. I held my breath.
And you were there! Your tiny heart making movements on the screen. I breathed again.
Precious one, you inspire me every day. You walk to the beat of your own drum. You ask questions – great questions. Questions I can’t always answer. You are feisty – just like I was as a child.
I love how you play in the world, how you marvel at the mundane. You remind me to slow down and play with the slime, the gum or the icky. To explore the texture of the moment.
I love to see you sleep – how pale you become. You look just like a porcelain angel.
Always in my heart – my angel.
All my love always,
Mummy
