Love Letter to my little one vol. 1

You are beautiful, little one.

This week, my heart has been breaking. My head has been aching. There’s a big pile of forms on the table downstairs that Mummy & Daddy are having to fill in, to share how tired and sore Mummy is becoming, how hard life is getting.

But you know something, you have been here, giving me a reason to smile.

Yesterday morning, you were crying in your sleep, a bad dream, maybe. My tired eyes snapped open at the sound and I climbed up and went to your side, carrying you back to my bed as carefully as I could, so you could feel safe and know you’re not alone, that Mummy will never allow you to be alone. You slept beside me peacefully for a few hours. When I naturally woke up again an hour or so later, your beautiful, beaming face was on the pillow next to mine.

“Hi!” you sang, so happy to see me.

“Hey baby.” What better sight was there to wake up to? What else could matter besides a moment as pure as that?

We got up, we pottered around getting breakfast and getting dressed. You had playgroup and I gave you the choice: “Pram or walker?”


You are the only motivation I have to use that thing without shame. I am determined not to feel shame where you have none. You don’t blink. You don’t care that Mummy is different. You wanted to climb up on the seat and have me push you. We chat the whole way. Oh, how I love getting to spend time with you.

When I collected you from playgroup, I ached. You chose to walk home at my side, holding faithfully onto the walker. But I ached. I had pain and I had to stop. But it didn’t faze you.

“Mummy ow.” you said knowingly as you slowed up by my side.

“Yes darling. Mummy’s leg is ow. Mummy needs it to pop, but it won’t.”

“Mummy’s leg no pop.”

“I wish it would.”

“No go pop!”

“No, not yet.”

“Mummy’s shoulder ow?”

I smiled. I hadn’t even thought about it, but yes, it ached. Was I predictable or could you see it? Do you know me so well now that you can see it?”

“Yes darling. And my knees. They all hurt today.”

As we started to walk again, you said: “Mummy so brave.”

I almost burst into tears.

I am so damn proud of you baby girl. You are so small, but already so empathetic and loving. You deal with my pain alongside me. I hate that I have to impact your life in this way, but you are taking it all in your confident little stride. Everything is normal for you, it does not worry you. All you want is a happy mummy. And honestly darling girl, the stress Mummy is under right now does not make me happy. I am struggling. But you, you are the best medicine, because you don’t look at me and see pain, or struggles or disability. You look at me, with understanding and love in your little face and all you see is Mummy. You see how hard Mummy tries her best for you.

I only ever wanted to be your Mummy. Being your Mummy makes my heart full.

You are what makes me happy, Squidgelet. I will tell you this every day. You are everything. You are why I am me.

I love you. Oh so much.

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