Monday, 22 July 2013

A letter to Esme Grace

I had a new baby, a much longed for sibling for you darling. And she cried. Lots. 

And frankly... It was all rather shit.


I went to ground. And there, I went to pieces. 


I spent six months muddling through with you both. 


Esme your love for Fia lasted seven days exactly. And the day that your father returned to work after a week's paternity, was the day the wheels fell off. 


I remember Nanny visited and asked you outright if you liked having a baby? You said 'no.' She asked you if she could take her home, and you said 'yes,' then smiled at the prospect.


You clearly disliked the new baby in our lives and hey, who could blame you; all she did was scream. I remember you covered your ears all the time, wailing to me too, 'Mummy, the baby is crying.' 


You retaliated with wild behaviour. Mostly as I was trying to feed Sofia. Cutting your hair one morning was classic. What was so incredible about that incident though was when you voiced why to your father...


I was in the rocking chair, nursing. Daddy was in the shower. Esme, you were colouring. Or were supposed to be colouring. Instead, you pulled a chair across to the bookcase, climbed up and took the now in reach scissors. Then you gave yourself a fringe, (wonky as), before trotting upstairs to show your Daddy. You got his attention immediately... mission accomplished honey.


e: Daddy, I've cut my hair.

d: You've done what?
e: (Louder) Cut my hair.
d: Why did you do that?
e: Because I wanted you to come to me. 

(Note: To date, that fringe has almost grown out again!)


Dealing with the two of you took time to get used to. As you would scream non-stop Fia, Esme you would demand. I was a walking zombie due to the no sleep factor and it was only a matter of time before Daddy would find the iron in the fridge.

I had no patience for your impatience Esme. In fact, I had zero tolerance for your impatience Esme, and I’m sorry about that. The television was on. A lot. 

To top having a baby sister arrive, you also began a new nursery in the same week. Yet again, you showed what a resilient little thing you are, as you took it all in your stride – aside from having no patience of course. Getting you there on time (9.30am) took all my efforts initially. I will always remember Fia howling and you shouting to be heard over her, 'Mummy, can I ride my scooter?' – Invariably you did.

I did receive a call from nursery sometime into your first term. They wanted me to have your hearing checked as they thought there was a problem. I knew of course that there was a problem - her name was Sofia and your world was turned upside down. 


We had your hearing checked, it was perfect. I remember you sat in the office at a table wearing headphones. Every time you heard a pitched peep, you had to put a farm animal in a pot. Clearly bored, and clearly hearing fine, you made me laugh out loud, when you removed the headphones, nodded to them, and whispered, 'Mummy, I want some of these in pink.' You've always been such a girl! - Apart from the time you actually lifted your leg to pass wind, age two.

After a morning at nursery you would always eat a good lunch – your favourite being scrambled egg. Or pasta. If you could get your hands on chocolate then you would be ecstatic. You would always show it to Sofia before eating it up. Not to be unkind, quite the opposite. You wanted to share the excitement. And with chocolate, it was never a case of eating it up as fast as you possibly could, no, strangely from the first time you tasted it, you would lick it, nibble it, and delectably savour it for as long as was possible. And amazingly, there wouldn't be any chocolate lost to your cheeks or chin.

I will always love watching you eat chocolate.


I will always love watching you.


I will always love you.