Today, S is one year old.
This time last year, I was in hospital, about to give birth to a tiny, premature, 5lb baby girl.
When she was born, I was scared. When they let me take her out of the hospital, I was petrified. I walked down the corridor to the exit feeling like I’d stolen something terribly important, and any minute now the staff would realise, and come and stop me.
For the first few months of her life, I was convinced that someone was going to realise they’d made a mistake in letting me have her, and come and take her away. The midwife, the GP, the health visitor, people at the Children’s Centre, people on the checkout at Mothercare. Surely they could all see I had no clue what I was doing, and that I shouldn’t be allowed this baby?
Now, a year on, I still can’t believe she’s mine, and I get to keep her. I feel so privileged to have this amazing, beautiful, funny and intelligent little person living with me. She makes me laugh every day, and also causes me to stop and think, “my gosh, I made that!”
It’s been a really tough 12 months, probably the hardest of my life. But without a doubt, also the most rewarding, the least selfish, the happiest.
Happy birthday to my beautiful baby girl.