Skip to main content

Dear Elijah, on your fourth birthday.

Happy Birthday my darling boy.

Dear Elijah,

I cannot quite believe that I am writing this a letter to you, on your fourth birthday.
It feels as though you have been in our lives for what seems like no time at all and as if you've been there our whole lives; all at the same time.
We have all come so far since the day you were born, the following long days we spent in hospital at your side.
I think things have changed in the last year.
It hasn't been the easiest has it?
There has been a lot of emotion.
A lot of anger from me, and from you.
You are so smart, so sensitive and I can see how frustrated you get with the world.
And with me, when you don't understand why you cannot always get what you want, why I say no.
It's hard to see the disappointment in your face when your dad leaves for work or I tell you Mummy cannot play as she needs to work too.
I know it's been hard, I haven't been myself and your brother can be hard work.
He can be demanding and I know I've had to side-line you at times.
The guilt that I cannot give you all my focus eats me up.
I know that you’ve struggled with all of the changes you've had in this last year.
Moving house and living with Nanny, Daddy's long hours and now your brother is older and so much more into things, your things in particular.
You have become so smart, so articulate and so expressive even when you're angry.
You are more like me than I like to admit.
Our tempers flare when we clash, the way you react to things, I can see myself in you.
I love the moments in the day where it's just me and you reading a book in my room before bed.
Or when you sit next to me watching TV as I write.
You are becoming so much more aware of everything.
So mature for your young years, you've been through so much so soon and it is clear this has left it's mark in more ways than one.
You are so curious, you ask so many questions and are becoming more independent.
From dressing yourself, making your own breakfast you have to do it your way.
You don't stop talking and have an excellent memory.
I know you are possessive, excitable when you see those you love and I know I can find it hard to manage those emotions and actions from you.
But with those emotions you also love so hard. You take care of your brother (when you want to), you adore your friends and care for your tortoise.
I am still grateful for the times you look to me to protect you, to comfort you and to reassure you.
The truth is, I miss you and me. Everything just seems so busy and I miss us.
Our adventures, trips to Costa or walks on our own.
I miss crawling into your bed just to smell your neck.
I am sorry you just missed out on school this year. I know you wanted to go up with your friends, deep down I know you are ready.
I was upset for you, but I know we now have this year to make some amazing memories.
I get a whole extra year of you.
Of going on adventures in the woods, of learning to read together and doing our favourite thing.... going to the library together.
I am so incredibly honoured to be your mum.
I may not act like it at times but I am, and I am so happy at what you have achieved.
You’re my beautifully brave heart warrior, the one that defied expectations.
You will be wonderful my dear and I am so proud of you and the person you are becoming.
Happy Birthday my darling boy.
I love you.
Always.
Mum x



Comments

  1. Such a superb birthday share! My cousin's birthday weekend was also nice. Celebrated her special day at one of the famous event venue with showy dinner. Tasty treats of pasta and barbeques were amazing. Also liked the ice creams and chocolate candies with creamy dressings. Drinks and especially red wine was yummy.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

5 things I want you to know about being a NICU Mum, this #nicuawarenessmonth

5 things I want you to know about being a NICU Mum, this #nicuawarenessmonth

In less than four days’ time, my eldest child will celebrate his fourth birthday.
Birthdays are always emotional especially when looking back, I class his birth as one of the most traumatic times of my life.
I recently wrote about how four years it still haunts me.
I didn’t just become a new mum, I became a NICU (Neo Natal Intensive Care Unit) Mum.
It was a title I didn’t ask for and we were part of a club we didn’t ask to join.
I have now spent nearly 4 years writing about our story on this blog, and for other publications and websites.
I have tried to raise awareness of the issues that affected us, I have tried to bring about change but ultimately and I hope I am right in saying I have helped other NICU Mum and CHD (Congenital Heart Defect) parents.
I have tried to process some of the emotions surrounding our NICU experience and use them to do something positive.
I had so much I wanted to say this #nicuawareness…

New Year... Same Old Me

Well, I can officially say this is my first post of 2019 and also for a little while too, I hope it is the first of many more regular posts again.
The truth is, I lost my blogging mojo and fell into a bit of a social media wormhole constantly comparing myself to others, seeing them announce their plans and features and wondering if I was really good enough.
I have been questioning whether people really are interested in what I have to say as she types from her bed (I have been told that all the best writers do this from a fellow writer!) with her two kids being bribed with Milky Ways and Toy Story 2 for the umpteenth time.
I have been blogging for few years now, and have had some amazing opportunities, I have been nominated for two awards, but alas my shelf is still waiting for the award I win and get to bring home. As much as it is an honour to be nominated and to be a finalist it makes me wonder, is it worth it all? Am I worth it all?
I have so many half started blog posts, so many idea…

I don't want your pity, just to retell our story.

When I tell someone about Elijah's heart condition (Tetralogy of Fallot a severe congential heart defect) I tend to guess their reaction.
After four years we tend to be met with the same response.
One that is slightly uncomfortable, one that sees them struggling to find the words after we tell them that we watched as our six month old baby was wheeled away into theatre, not knowing if we would see him alive again.
Perhaps a glimmer of relief that it isn't their child that will face struggles, future surgeries, restrictions and life long appointments.
We tend to be met with sympathy for our situation, which is greatfully recieved.
Some have a relative or a friend they know that CHD has also resided in so have an insight into what our lives are like.
Some ask questions which I jump at the chance of answering.
Asking me questions about Elijah's condition means I am spreading awareness, educating others about CHD.
Something that up until four years ago we didn't even know…