This will be your first Christmas ever, and we are so excited. We haven't got you a present, as we don't think you'd really care, and we should probably save that money for a high chair as you are growing and learning SO fast, that we almost can't keep up!
This time last year you were a thought in my head, an idea that sparked such excitement in me that I was already starting to dream about you. I knew you were there before I even found out I was pregnant because I dreamt about you. I asked you what we should call my mum, and you said "Nana Ali." In my dream I said 'A-, That's a great name," and when I rang Nana Ali the next day to tell her, she said "that's funny, 'cos that's the exact name I came up with yesterday."
We've had a rough start you and I. I wish I could do the beginning of your life all over again and make it better for both of us. I would tell the delivery theatre doctors to leave you be, to not take you away from me the minute you were born. I would hold you and tell them to leave you alone. I would figure out a way to stay by your side in the NICU ward, and I wouldn't let them tell me to not stroke your tiny hand. but I can't. So instead I am focussing on making your future the best that I can.
I wish I could protect you from all that world is going to throw at you. I wish I could keep you hidden from it's horrors forever. I wish that I could guarantee that you will never have to feel the pain of a school yard fist, or the sting of a bullying remark, or the tears of a broken heart. I pray that you don't feel the same anxiety I did as a teenager and I hope that I can be the role model you need me to be in order to become strong enough to deal with life's struggles. But I can't promise any of that. All I can do is promise that I will be there with you for it all. I will catch you when you fall and I will always pick you back up. I only hope I can give you the life you deserve.
Little Bean, you have changed me in ways I can't even describe. I used to be anxious all the time about what people thought of me, about death and pain, about me failing. But that changed the moment you were born. I still worry about what people think of me, but I care less about it. I don't freak out about performing because I want to show you that I am not scared and neither should you be. I fear death only because I am worried about what will happen to you if I am not around, and rather than worried that I will fail and embarrass myself, I worry that I will fail you most of all.
This christmas you are nearly 4 months old. You smile and coo, and are about to laugh any day now. You are just learning to roll over and to grasp at toys. You still wake 2-3 times a night and you don't like to sleep during the day. You love bath time and you love singing with me and Daddy. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I do know that I will love you for every single second of it. Probably you won't read this letter for many, many years, but when you do, believe me when I say that all this will still be true.
Love,
Mummy
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