I told you I had a fair bit of correspondence to do. The DLA renewal form tried to sneak it’s way in there, I only filled that in quick smart as it’ll hopefully qualify us for a shiny new car come October. But this time I wanted to write something not to a former me, but to a mini me. Miss Deedee. It’s also in homage to a beautiful post by theaandnatesman. A post which had me cradling my newborn at the time, big fat tears plopping on her sweet smelling head.
Dear Dulcie. Deedee. Tubs,
I bet you’re thinking ‘at last, wondered when it was my turn’. You are about to turn 10 months old. In that mere 10 months I now know one day you will be thinking that, because I know you will be independent of mind. Independent of spirit. This blog was inspired by your brother’s path, but here you are, stomping in, mesmerising people in your wake. So it’s only right that I should take time to tell you just how amazing you are.
You have heard, and will continue to hear your brother described as ‘special’. Don’t ever let that make you believe you are any less special. I am your Mum, and therefore very biased, but I know you are enchanting. You are confident and forthright, you are fearless. You have an easy smile, a warm nature. People have already remarked upon you being special. You are patient (well, as patient as a baby could be) whilst you have had to spend your formative months often at a hospital cotside. In A&E. At endless appointments. Luckily you’re a sociable wee soul. At baby groups you cruise away from me with ease, you watch nearby as I have to help your brother. You seem to understand when he needs me a little more. You push me if you think you can muscle in on my time.
I have often mocked you on this blog, because I know one day you’ll give as good as you get. You have a glint in your eye, a cheekiness to your actions. You will be well received in our familial pisstaking. But never doubt the strength of my love for you.
I see you poke and prod your brother. Pull his hair. You think he’s amazing. Fascinating. Quite possibly another teething toy. What you won’t understand yet is he’s endlessly patient with you in a way which he isn’t with any other. He obviously loves you too. And I’m going to keep encouraging your feistiness even when you hear NO! for the one thousandth time that day. Because I credit you with helping him learn to sit. And with his seeming further interest in getting mobile in a more successful way. But also because I am beguiled by your curiosity.
Sometimes your beauty takes my breath away. Your face feels a million emotions and ideas in a split second. Your eyes are not only a brilliant blue, they have a light that dances behind them. You are strong and able, and yet have moments of being so soft and gentle. Of caring.
I know our lives together will be full of passion. So whilst we love each other fiercely we will no doubt have blazing rows. I hope you are as calm in an argument as your Daddy, but judging from current abilities I fear you and I will have a similar temperament. I forgive and forget easily though. This I hope to impart.
You will notice your life is different to others. You will soon recognise your brother is different to others. Your big brother is fast becoming your little brother. I can’t promise it will be easy, that people won’t look and stare. That someone will say something mean, whether intentionally or not. But I will try my best to nurture your early confidence and belief in yourself as your Grandma and Grandpa J did for me. And you are growing up surrounded by cracking cousins, together you will all form a formidable team.
I’ve no doubt that you will tell me if it seems unfair, but at times it possibly will seem that way. You see, you will be able to articulate that. You have needs, and over time as your independence grows these needs will be less reliant on us. We will aim to listen to and attend to your wishes and desires (easy now, there’s limits). Your brother’s needs are unlikely to lessen significantly, he might even pick up a couple more on the way. Your Daddy and I spend a lot of time second guessing his wishes and desires. We will always try to do our best by both of you. But we are human, we won’t always succeed. And we won’t tolerate any more histrionics and drama from you than we do from him. So don’t push it.
So I write this to you (and yes, you will be able to question the irony of that when you’re old enough) and finish with something that I hope doesn’t get lost in the ‘gerroffs’, ‘put that down’, and ‘get down from theres’. We love you. Not more, not less. Just with all that we have.