Monday, July 20, 2009
After writing my last post I collapsed in a bloggy heap and got on with celebrating birthdays. Today my Little is two and the story of her arrival should be easy to write because her birth is my triumph. Actually, it’s the complete opposite. I’ve had a good five go’s at the writing – but after the last post, I’m spent and I can’t and these are the really important ones – the ones I want to get right.
The birthday girl is my against the odds, most perfect birth I could have hoped for. A home waterbirth, just me, the wonderful Mr and our intuitive midwife. This babe is the one who arrived in the still of the pre-dawn without a cry, the room lit only by the glow of the fire. Hers is the birth that makes me raise my arms, throw back my head and breathe it all in.
So Miss Bizzy Britches, Miss Fashion Statement,
Miss Finder of Trouble Around Any Corner,
Happy birthday to you, darling Poppet.
And if you think that fake look of remorse is convincing me, you so have another thing coming!
For those I couldn’t track down to thank personally – your comments and support after the last post were so heartily appreciated. Many prompted more of the teary stuff (in a good way) and provided very welcome therapy.