Dearest Miss Annie,
Wow. Mumma is tired. It's not all your fault though, so let's be clear from the outset. You are growing so very rapidly - it never ceases to amaze me. Your smiles come one after the other these days. Usually just because we smile at you, but when you're tired a little 'insey winsey spider' seems like the funniest song since 'achy breaky heart'. These smiles are a delight to witness. I crave them. Like a drug. I want more, more, more. They tell me you know who we are. That the last 10 weeks of feeding and burping and rocking and singing have actually mattered to your little personality. That you acknowledge we are there. That we are your parents. And that you love us.
My lack of energy probably comes from the fact that over the last week I have had a few tough days on my own. Self inflicted I have to confess. I wanted to spend a week at our beach house before the sale goes through and so I took you down there with me while Dada worked. You had some really good days and some really bad days. On the bad days I had no one to hand you to so that I could refocus. I had no one to bring you to me in bed at night or change your nappy when you leaked all over yourself. (might have to try new Aldi nappies to see if any better). I was up at night a lot. And for a few hours. You would eat and then smile at me. I loved it, but the night owl thing was making me weary.
We are back in the city now. Back home. You are currently tucked up tightly in your bassinet, sleeping soundly. The thunder and rain today woke you momentarily and after a little grizzling and chatting away to yourself, you have dropped off again. This gives me to to recuperate. To rest and prepare for the afternoon when ABBA will be sung, tears will be had and many of those wide, luscious grins will delight my heart.
I guess what I am trying to say is that sometimes I find this mum thing hard. I wasn't prepared for that. I wasn't prepared for how I would be as a mum. I also find myself gaining more and more respect for mothers out there. (Especially single mums. Hail to you all! I am not worthy! You are doing a fantastic job, and all on your own too.) I can't compare to that. I have the patience and love of Dada to help me bring up you, my little girl.
You have really grown, sweet Annie. It scares me because I want these treasured moments to last. It would be nice to have you still for months on end to really LOVE every moment. I beat myself up with guilt for not cherishing every, single, waking moment. Like when you scream blue murder as I try to feed you and no matter how tempting I make the breast you arch your back and refuse it anyway. But I guess that's just me being human....and perhaps a little sleep deprived. I've been told that the guilt just stays with your forever. Am I doing the right thing? Have you had enough to eat? Should we have gone to Lucinda Williams last night at Hamer Hall when you were so very tired and needed sleep, sleep, sleep? The guilt just lives in me now. I was given a bag of it at the hospital to take home with me. All mums get one. We're very lucky that way. We can beat ourselves up over every little move we make on your behalf until you're big enough to make your own. I hope I make you proud. I hope you're not picking at the thread on a couch telling your psychiatrist that I have made you unstable. I hope when you grow up, you love me as much as I ardently love you.
You are my sweetness,