A moment of reflection

I flew ‘home’ to Edinburgh last Friday for the first time in 15 months. I was carrying some extra special luggage in the form of my little girl. She turned one on Sunday 26 Feb.  Landing there clutching my child, I had a few days of reflection.

This milestone has raised all sorts of emotions, feelings and excitement in me.  In a funny way, it has been the shortest yet longest of years all at once. The term ‘learning curve’ just doesn’t do it justice. It’s more akin to being smacked around the head with a learning shovel.

Firstly, I just can’t believe that it was a year since this happened.  That we have all survived, been fed and clothed, remained reasonably sane and intact seems nothing short of miraculous.

When I look back over this twelve astounding months, my head just spins. My baby has gone from a needy newborn, incapable of anything but being adorable, through to the verge of toddlerhood complete with a little bit of independence and all that brings.  I remember vividly the moment that our midwife was leaving us shortly after Camille’s birth. I panicked. “What do you mean you are leaving? But, what do we do with THIS?”, I asked, pointing at my offspring, minus instruction manual.  I now feel pretty, well, capable really.

She has brought us some very testing times but mostly just sheer happiness and joy.  Her hair is getting longer, her body getting bigger and her personality is developing all the time. And she has a little sense of humour all of her own with a delightful chuckle.

I can’t believe that we have overcome so many challenges, the relentless 9.5 months of breastfeeding, the hideous reflux which I truly thought would last forever, being covered in sick 24/7, the sleepless days and nights.

My body has changed for better and for worse. I now weigh less than I did on my wedding day and can fit jeans I wore a decade ago, just because I no longer sit at a desk all day long. But there’s no doubt that certain parts of me have shrunk/gone crinkly/creak and crack more.

I have dodged post-natal depression and found exercise, cooked lots of homemade food and vacuumed like never before. I can organise 10 things at once, with a baby on my hip and snot in my hair.  I can drive a bloody big car with skill and park it without breaking anything much, in true yummy Mummy style.

My little lady is on the verge of walking so I am braced for the next chapter. The house is braced. The cat is braced.  First enquiries for nursery places have been made, the baby ‘stuff’ packed away and we will be heading to Clarks for her first proper walking shoes soon.

Time is just flying and I now understand what every supermarket checkout lady has meant when they go all misty-eyed and urge me to enjoy every minute. As it all goes by just far too quickly.

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