A Letter to my Gorgeous Little Girl

You turn seven today.  I’m not sure where all the time has gone, or in deed why it has to pass so quickly.  But pass it has.  Seven years ago I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of my brand new baby daughter, you.  Ill yet again with pre-eclampsia, which although mild just added to the terror that usually surrounds any of my births.  I needn’t have worried though.  It was picked up early on and I was booked for a c-section the next day.  Your birth was probably my most peaceful, unrushed birth ever.  I had a student anesthetist at my head and your daddy at my side.  The student was an older student, well into his 50’s I would say, and very empathetic.  A real patient’s doctor.  He had read my notes about T and the twins’ birth and knew I was worried, so he explained every part of the procedure of your birth to me.  It was almost like having my very own commentator!  When you were cut from me you were still completely surrounded by your sac and as they moved you away, to clean you, your beautiful face was pushed against the translucent sac lining.  Oh, the love I felt in that second, I will remember for as long as I live.  You had a shock of ginger hair and looked the spitting image of your brother at the same age.

When we finally brought you home, I think you got more attention than any baby ever has.  Your three older siblings never wanted to put you down.  It was love at first sight for them too:

Once we had your feeding sorted (you were allergic to both my breast milk, and normal bottle milk so the doctor prescribed you a glucose based milk), you were as happy as happy could be and spent your days delighting everyone around you.

When you were about 9 months old we moved back to England.  You were still surrounded by the people you loved and so didn’t notice the different surroundings.  And so it is now.  As long as you are near to those who love you and who you love, all is right in your world.

You took part in the older ones’ school, even though you were too young to really comprehend what was going on:

A few months after your second birthday I gave birth to your little sister.  You were besotted from the word go:

and nothing much has changed over the intervening years.  She is very much your best friend.

My pregnancy and her birth was fraught with all sorts of complications but Daddy and I are so pleased we took the risk because we could not wish for daughters any closer:

even these four years on:

Daddy and I love to watch the two of you together.

Hugging together:

Playing together:

Helping each other:

And generally just being together:

This is a friendship which will last the test of time.  It is a forever relationship and because of it we are certain you will never be lonely.  But it is not just your younger sister you love so very much, but also your older siblings:

T has always been your very big brother, and hearing you tell him you love him casually whilst shopping in Asda yesterday warmed both Gary and my hearts:

You give your love so freely, and hold no grudges.  Forgiveness is always instant.  Cuddles and kisses are always offered.

I am loving watching you watch your sisters and try to be like them in every which way you can:

You sometimes don’t understand why they are so much older than you and are allowed to do so much more than you.  Your day will come sweetheart.  Don’t try to grow up too soon.  Enjoy the precious time of youthfulness and playfulness.  Those years go far too quickly and can never be got back.  Just ask your sisters, who would return to being seven in a flash if they could.

I am writing this letter to you, so you know just how loved you are.  You are so beautiful, inside and out, and Daddy and I are so proud of the gorgeous girl you are and the incredible woman we have no doubt you will one day become:

When we were doing our Mr Men school, I remember us saying you were our Little Miss Sunshine and nothing has changed.  You are like a ray of sunshine every day:

We love your cuteness and your quirkiness…

…….your caring nature and lack of jealousy of any kind with regards to your little sister even though she demands so much more of us than you do:

We have watched you struggle to learn to read and write due to concentration issues, and have been so encouraged to see you not give up.  Now Granny is on board and helping you in the quiet of her own home, your reading and writing has really taken off:

Granny thinks you are just wonderful, and I know she so enjoys the close relationship the two of you have built.  I so love the enthusiasm with which you skip next door each morning for your hour with Granny.

Daddy and I giggle when you tell us you do not belong in England.  You are our only child who has been born in Northern Ireland and nobody is more proud of this fact than you (with Daddy as a close second).  When we go and visit it is always with reluctance you leave your Irish Grandparents, having worked out some convoluted way you could stay with them (and play golf with Granda):

Somehow, without being told, you know that it is relationships which are the most important thing in this world.  Your enthusiasm for your life and your family is contagious and we feel so blessed to have you in ours:

It is a privilege to call you our daughter and we hope you have a wonderful seventh birthday and we look forward to seeing what the next year brings your way.

Happy birthday, Big Girl, we love you so much sweetheart <3 <3