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Letter to My Daughter

1
People keep having babies. They’re shooting them out everywhere. And the photos keep popping up on my FB feed, I’m my emails, via text. Or when your grandmother comes over to show me and ask for another grandchild.
All the babies are cute (ish- you all look like little squidgy bean bags for the first week) and all the mums look so happy. So so happy. It hurts.
You see I let you down sweetheart. Or at least I feel I did. Having a baby is scary with the physical ordeal and the endless list of possible complications they give you at the hospital
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(thanks) and then they send you home with this tiny, helpless human. And it’s all up up me. And I don’t know my arse from my elbow or my way around a nappy. Before I knew it I had full on crippling anxiety and panic attacks. A lot of your days were spent sleeping blissfully unaware I was sobbing in the bathroom. I did my best, I worked through it. I got better. You were such a happy baby. You were giggly and healthy and fun. But I couldn’t really enjoy any of it back then. So there are no pictures on fb of me and you laughing, there are no hilarious
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posts joking about all the nappies or pictures of me dressing you up in cute little outfits. Because I was drowning. I was just trying to get through the day. I hope you never know. I hope when you have your own baby you’ll take the rough with the smooth and feel a lot more relaxed about it all. But just know that the reason I was such a mess was because I had never loved anything like I loved you. Nothing has ever been remotely as important to me, and I didn’t trust myself with something that precious. I do now. When you jumped into bed with me this
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morning and whispered ”mummy, you’re the best” you don’t know how happy that made me. I love you unfailingly, unendingly.
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Letter to My Daughter

- 14 Nov 16

People keep having babies. They’re shooting them out everywhere. And the photos keep popping up on my FB feed, I’m my emails, via text. Or when your grandmother comes over to show me and ask for another grandchild.
All the babies are cute (ish- you all look like little squidgy bean bags for the first week) and all the mums look so happy. So so happy. It hurts.
You see I let you down sweetheart. Or at least I feel I did. Having a baby is scary with the physical ordeal and the endless list of possible complications they give you at the hospital (thanks) and then they send you home with this tiny, helpless human. And it’s all up up me. And I don’t know my arse from my elbow or my way around a nappy. Before I knew it I had full on crippling anxiety and panic attacks. A lot of your days were spent sleeping blissfully unaware I was sobbing in the bathroom. I did my best, I worked through it. I got better. You were such a happy baby. You were giggly and healthy and fun. But I couldn’t really enjoy any of it back then. So there are no pictures on fb of me and you laughing, there are no hilarious posts joking about all the nappies or pictures of me dressing you up in cute little outfits. Because I was drowning. I was just trying to get through the day. I hope you never know. I hope when you have your own baby you’ll take the rough with the smooth and feel a lot more relaxed about it all. But just know that the reason I was such a mess was because I had never loved anything like I loved you. Nothing has ever been remotely as important to me, and I didn’t trust myself with something that precious. I do now. When you jumped into bed with me this morning and whispered “mummy, you’re the best” you don’t know how happy that made me. I love you unfailingly, unendingly.

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A blog about all the things I can't/shouldn't/don't want to say to my daughter about the realities of raising her! So I blog them. The good, the bad and the extremely ugly! Maybe she'll read them one day when she's old enough!!

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