Going To The Beach

Something good did happen today. 

I'm supposed to write about that too, or else my Husband feels sad. And I don't want him to feel sad.

I was allowed out for a drive for one hour, and we went with Baby Bean to the Beach at Sumner. I felt a bit sick going out there, and got a bit anxious and Bean fell asleep on the drive. But then I took her out of the car and onto the Beach and although it was her second time at the beach, it was the first time she had really seen it. 

I showed her the waves, and the sand, and the driftwood. And then we all sat on a bench, and Lover and I ate hot chips and threw them to the seagulls, which Bean's incredulous face thought was pretty amazing when they swarmed around us from out of nowhere.

 

Lover took lots of photos so I could play around with them later and hopefully get some nice pictures of Bean and me to remember the day.

He's actually a pretty good photographer.

It was a really nice outing, and I felt truly happy for the first time ages. Not elevated-bipolar-happy, just happy.

Then I got back here and was in isolation again. But my friend J visited and we talked, and my Love brought me beautiful flowers and a bright lime green blanket and a Burrito for tea. Then when he saw my post about the hot water bottle, he rang to remind me about all the beautiful things that happened today. And He is right. 

Bean out with Daddy Buying Me Gorgeous Flowers to Brighten My Room.

Damn these mood swings.

A Christmas Letter

Dear Little Bean,

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