An open letter to my daughter


I am not perfect. Sometimes I get frustrated, sometimes you cry, then I cry… we cry together. Its like a little game neither of us like to play. A game where no one wins, but at least we both know we have each other to cry on. I try my hardest to make you happy. I play peekaboo, tickle monsters and act like every animal you would find in a zoo, just to see that adorable gummy little smile. I crawl around on all fours and neigh like a pony while you follow me, I turn around to see you laughing and crawling faster to me. I wish I had the energy to do that every minute of the day. I am sorry sometimes I sit and watch you play, I can’t pick you up every minute of the day. Mama gets tired and sore, but it kills me to know that there is something you need from me, something more.
I know I am not perfect but I am trying.

There are things I wish I could tell you, things I wish I could tell you and you would truly understand. I know you don’t like it when I tell you no, you pull that little face that says “I’m just going to do it anyway”, it makes me smile on the inside because its just the most perfectly adorable little expression, but I have to look serious instead. I wish you knew I wasn’t saying no to be mean and stop your fun, I just want the best for you and want you to be safe.

It kills me to hear you cry, my whole body tenses and my heart beats faster. When you cry at night I don’t want to leave you, believe me. Every fibre of my being is urging me to run back into your room, scoop you up into my arms and hold you close. I want to kiss away your tears and snuggle with you until you drift back to sleep. I want you to know that I am there for you and I don’t want you to be sad. I wish you knew that I only let you cry (controlled crying) because I want you to master the skill of soothing yourself to sleep. I wish I could tell you that although it might seam as though I am letting you cry for hours, it is only for 15 minutes. The moment you start to cry and stand up in your cot a stop watch goes off in my head. I sit on my bed and I stare at the baby monitor and the clock, I count down the minutes until I can go in your room and comfort you. I wish you knew how guilty I feel when you stop crying and fall asleep after 14 minutes. How I sometimes secretly wish you’d have cried that tiny bit longer so I could tell you I love you and that I was there for you. I am thankful that you do love your sleep and there are only occasions where you do struggle but it doesn’t make it any easier on us does it buttercup?

Hallie, I am trying so hard to spend as much time with you as a family of three as possible. For in a few short months, it won’t just be us any more. I know at times you may feel jealous or confused that somebody else will be getting your special hugs from mummy and I wish I could tell you so you would understand. I feel guilty already at the thought of having to spend less time solely devoted to you, but I promise we are going to have so much fun when your baby brother arrives. Mummy has enough love in her heart to share with another baby as well as you. But Hallie Kate, you are our first, you are our first daughter, and you will always be my little lamb.
You are my sun,my moon,and all my stars. 

Love you always

Mama x

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