Exactly 4 years ago today – at this precise moment I became a mumma. My daughter was lifted sleeping from my stomach. My husband shouted “It’s a boy!” the surgeon explained that was the umbilical cord.
It was an amazing moment. And terrifying. But mostly just beautiful. This tiny pink bundle, whose legs were up in the air (breech birth) was adorable and she was all ours to love, support, teach, grow with and have fun together.
I remember the day clearly. Saying hello to Grace for the very first time as Dadda0938 had the first cuddle. Finally getting to hold her myself once I was in recovery. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. And its been pretty much that way ever since.
Four years fly by. The first year, the memory of the ride that got you to that moment is still vivid (and in some cases raw). For me the first #0938er pregnancy was tough at times. A wonky pelvis meant baby weight literally didn’t sit well on me. All efforts to prevent stretch marks went out the window when my little monkey settled bum down, ankles at her ears. Her attempts to stretch out her legs resulting in the most colourful of ‘tummy tapestrys’ for me.
Year two was a blur of Peppa Pig (the second #0938er arrived = pre/post pregnancy and new baby haze). And year three spent mostly being gobsmacked at the speed our little baby was becoming a little lady.
This year at 09:38, I’ll probably already have been up for nearing 4 hours and be slowly drowning under a sea of wrapping paper. Or already on the road to the planned birthday day trip, wondering if its time for lunch yet. Either way I’ll be sure to take note at the exact time it all began.