My First Mother’s Day

Well I never thought that this day would arrive, where I could enjoy being part of Mothering Sunday as a mother myself, but it did, after all these years.  Still hard to believe though!  It was great fun.

K had bought me a card and even signed it (maybe with some help!) and we had invited my Mum and Dad and brother for dinner – most of which R did, I have to say – and very nice it was, too.

K kept everyone enthralled – laughing, giggling, crawling, grabbing at people’s faces and hair, watching intently while my brother played with her toys and kept her amused while playing peek-a-boo with Winnie the Pooh, and then showed everyone her new skill of ‘washing’ my face by swooshing a wet wipe all over it and shrieking with laughter as I blew raspberries back at her while she did so.

She fell asleep exhausted in my arms just before dishing up time, so I transferred her to Mum.  Dad said that it took him back a few years, seeing her holding a sleeping baby, and he said that she didn’t look any different now than she did then.  Ahhhh!  At the end of the day Mum said that she can’t remember when she’d last laughed so much.

On Saturday we went to a nearby garden centre. I put K into her harness and we walked around.  Her little face as she saw all the coloured flowers, and then her beaming smiles as I held her closer to some so that she could smell them as well, was a joy to behold.  We walked over to a Hide, from where you can watch birds and squirrels eating the food that had been put out for them.  K was entranced! 

Observing her reactions to the world is just magic.  Sometimes these are only slight, but to see a look of wonder cross her face when she experiences something for the first time, or re-experiences something that she loves doing, or a sudden look of understanding or comprehension flashes across her face is just amazing.  So is that mischievous look when she suddenly realises that she can reach out and grab something that she knows is forbidden!

I love to see her working things out – like why Daddy has a beard but other people don’t.  She’ll sit there for ages with her hand on our chins, comparing them and looking from one to the other.

I love to see her excitement when she hears Daddy come home and sees him walk through the door.  I love to see her make a little happy noise when she sees the cats, who roll over on the floor at her feet for her pleasure to make her giggle.

I love to see her joy when she accomplishes something for the first time, such as crawling and standing and picking something up and clapping and making noises, and the way in which she responds to our responses to her.  I love the cheeky look that she gives me when I’ve cut a small piece off something for her and she grabs the bigger bit left behind!

I love the way in which she snuggles her face into my neck and suddenly becomes heavy as she falls asleep, and love to watch her face while she’s dreaming and wonder what she’s dreaming about.

I love the shout of glee that she gives when I pick her up and she starts patting my shoulder, in the same way that I pat her on the back after feeds.

I love the look of concentration on her face when she’s trying to imitate something that others are doing, and the way in which she bounces to music.

I love the look that we exchange when we look into each other’s eyes.

She is all instinct; there’s no pretence in her, no trying to be something that she isn’t, or pretending that everything’s fine when she’s upset, to spare other people’s feelings, or trying to say and do the right thing.  She is, refreshingly, just herself – if she’s upset she cries, if she’s happy she laughs, with wonderful, glorious abandon and lack of inhibition.

I just love this little girl, and would die for her, and am so happy to be her Mum.

To those of you who have been my faithful followers all through this saga, I’ll probably end this ‘blog’ soon; perhaps on her first birthday would be a good time.  I don’t have as much free time to keep you updated as I used to when I was at work (for some reason!)  Also the title is no longer really applicable, and as she grows older I’d just like her to be an ordinary little girl.  Although, having said that, she will never be ordinary to me – she is a very special baby of course, and I am privileged to have her in my life.

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About Linda Weeks

About my life with the daughter I thought I'd never have - but I did, thanks to a wonderful anonymous egg donor, to whom I will be forever grateful. xx
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