My darling Sweetpea,
My phone is angry with me, berating me for my abuse of its memory capacity with an angry little warning sign. ‘You must delete some pictures,’ it judgementally chastises me. I never had this difficulty with my phone pre-you my darling, my mobile interaction always generally amicable. But ever since the day you emerged blinking into the light, I have been snapping away, capturing for posterity the milestones and events which have peppered your first months.
In a short while, I will pull together those pictures into a book, a catalogue of memories which we will look back on together in years to come. We’ll coo over those images from your very first day, commenting on your tiny size, so small compared to the girl then woman into which you will grow. We’ll laugh at the pictures of you at the swings, and I will tell you what a daredevil you were, wanting to go higher, even though you were just little. And you will probably roll your eyes at me at the pumpkin costume I dressed you in at Halloween, no doubt declaring that I have clearly always been an embarrassing mum.
But they are the highlights, the days out, the special events. What you won’t see are the mundanities, the day to day toings and froings which have underpinned your first year. There will be no shots of your dad and I applying the plethora of creams necessary to keep your eczema under control. Nor will you see pictures of your dad, showing a hitherto hidden talent as a manicurist, gently trimming your nails almost daily as part of our concerted effort to stop you hurting yourself when the eczema itchiness overwhelmed you. And, you’ll never see us desperately trying to get you to take your hated calpol, when your teeth were causing you agonising pain and your hurt broke our hearts.
And nor would I want you to see those pictures; I’m so grateful that you won’t remember the all-encompassing itchiness of your eczema, or the body-shaking pain of your teething. But what I do hope that stays with you, what I want you to carry through your life is how we made you feel. When times were tough, you dad and I have wrapped you up in a little love bubble, lavishing adoration upon you, utterly devoted to increasing your happiness. And from the look on your face, the way you’ve rested your head upon my shoulder, or relaxed visibly, I think you’ve known that. And that feeling, which can’t be captured in any photo, is what I hope you always carry with you: that feeling of being loved, no matter what.
There is a famous quote by Maya Angelou which is: ‘At the end of the day people won’t remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel.’ You will never remember these early days but I hope you always remember how we made you feel my darling.
Love, Mumumumumumum xxx