A year ago today I wrote Dear Squigler, a letter to my unborn son and to this date it is one of my favourite posts. I am tired, we have been out, it is late but when I realised the date this evening I couldn’t go to sleep without marking the occasion in some way. So here is the same letter, and my thoughts one year later.
Hello. You don’t really know me yet (other than my insides) but I am your Mum. I’m the annoying one who has been twittering on to you all the time while you were doing all of that important growing of organs and limbs and getting big and stuff. I hope you like what you find when you decide to arrive.
Hello. You know me so well now, you recognise me wherever we are. You really were concentrating on the growing part in my belly, you were a beautiful big baby and to this day you are so very tall. You seem to like living with us, and we love having you here.
I just wanted to write down how I am feeling right now. You are due to be born tomorrow, although I know that you seem quite happy where you are and that you will come out when you are good and ready on your own timetable and not mine. I am sure there is a lesson in there somewhere that I need to learn pretty sharpish.
I had no idea what it would be like when you arrived. I had to wait another fifteen days for you to arrive, and when you did you did so in your own way. Sometimes I wonder if we had just let you come in your own time things might have been a little smoother. That definitely was the lesson that I should have learned and it is one that I will take forward. You have made me slow down, relax and understand that the world does not end if we are a little late some days. Most days we get there early anyway.
When you do arrive me and your Dad will call you something other than Squigler I promise (to your face anyway – the internet will have to call you that for a bit longer). We have spent a lot of time trying to pick your name, but we seem to have ended up back at the beginning with one of the first ones that we thought of. I hope that you like it and that we have spent enough time trying to find something that will not cause you to be lumbered with an annoying nickname for the rest of your life (Mine: Smelly Whiff. Your Dad’s: Cheesecake) I am sure someone will come up with something but I am fairly certain we have avoided the major pitfalls!
We had chosen your name Piran, for many reasons but once we had suggested it nothing came close. We picked the right name, as it is you through and through, and means so much to us but we do have to apologise. If the last year is anything to go by most people will hear Kieran instead of Piran, and you will have to say “no, Piran with a P” like I do. Sometimes I let it slide, if I am not going to see the person ever again. If they do get it right, then they will invariably comment that it is unusual and ask where it comes from. I hope it never bothers you.
You know more about me than you do about your Dad so let me fill you in. You are a very lucky boy because your Dad is simply the best person I have ever met. He is funny and kind and caring and will always put you and me first. He is very excited about becoming a Dad, and when we found out you were a little boy and again when he heard your heart beat for the first time he cried a few little tears. He is a big softie, which may embarrass you in years to come but I love it. He balances me perfectly and we are such a great team. He has looked after the both of us so well over the past 9 months and I just cannot wait to see him hold you in his arms for the first time. I am afraid that my heart will go pop with love when you are born because it overflows with love for him everyday and I cannot imagine how I will fit you both in. Don’t worry, I am very determined and can do anything I put my mind to, I just cannot comprehend how lucky I feel.
Ah, well that just says it all. Take everything I wrote in that paragraph and multiply by 10. Your Dad has shed many tears this year, sometimes at the milestones, but more often just on a normal day when we are doing normal things. I catch him looking at you with wonder in his eyes and if our eyes meet I have to look away because wow, that feeling is so immense, so intense that I cannot breathe. You plus him plus me equals the meaning of my life. I did not have to worry about fitting you into my heart with him, you just stretched my heart until you both snuggle in there together. I felt lucky last year, now I count my blessings every day. I hope I never take that for granted.
A word of advice, we both have our strengths. So he will be in charge of all outdoor pursuits such as sport or gardening. I am an indoor person, I will read to you and buy you books, I will teach you to cook and paint and make things. Your Dad can kick a ball, grow you food for dinner and explain the rules of Cricket and the Tour de France. Oh and whatever your Grandad or Aunty Alison say, you are a Tottenham Hotspurs supporter.
I cannot wait for you to be big enough to do these things with us. You love painting at nursery and I already have a wall of paintings. We both love to play with you, take you for walks and make you laugh. I would spend all day trying to make you laugh if life gave me time.
We have spent the last couple of years turning a house into a home ready for a family and when you arrive that is exactly what we will become, a family. Cannot wait to meet you little man.
You are now crawling, and getting into everything. You are slowly investigating your home now you can, and I hope you like it. It is fir to burst with all of the baby related paraphernalia that we have accumulated over the past year. Don’t crawl into any of our storage cupboards we wouldn’t find you for days.
Mum and Dad
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