Dear baby (the 6 month edition)

Rufadoof,

These last six months have just had no chill! They’ve flown by in a flurry of sleepless nights, broken nipples and unbridled joy.

 

 

I knew we would love you. I knew you’d be such a welcome addition. I knew that having a rainbow baby would add a different dimension to my Motherhood experience. But what I didn’t know, the thing I hadn’t realised, was that as soon as we had you in our arms, the struggles we’d endured to reach that point, would fade into a dim and distant past. Almost as though it happened to someone else. A different person to the one that I am now. One who was lost in grief and fear and confusion. It’s not that your older siblings didn’t make me smile every single day; it was they who carried me through and kept me going. But when you arrived, I finally felt like I could breathe again.

 

 

I can look back at our journey now without succumbing to sadness. Because it was a journey. A journey to meet you, Rufus. And although it wasn’t the easiest road, the end destination was more incredible than I’d ever imagined and each painful step was worth it. It was always meant to be you.

 

 

But hey, you may be my rainbow, but you’re still my third, so don’t think you’re exempt from the lax attitude to parenting that that entails. As far as babies go, you are the most difficult; although perhaps that has more to do with the haphazard approach to routine that occurs when there are school runs to do. You’ve become an accessory to our manic days and very rarely the main event (unless you count those 6 baby yoga sessions I treated you to, out of guilt). Everything is a bit more relaxed (lazy) with a number three. Naps are taken wherever you can find them. Feeds rushed and brief before we dash off somewhere else. Whilst we’ve been weaning you, I don’t think I’ve even once glanced at the pouch (no homemade here!) to see what I’m offering up. If you ever had an allergic reaction, it’d be more complex than a series of Broadchurch, as we tried to find the culprit. You’re always dressed in baby grows. Not so much because I can’t be bothered to get you dressed (although that’s true too), but because it’s taken me this long to realise that babies actually don’t need to go about their days dressed in chinos and shirts, no matter how cute it might be.

 

 

 

Being the third one does have some benefits though. I let you sleep in my bed, for example, because at this point, I’ll take my sleep where I can get it. And if you prefer the feather down pillows and the memory foam mattress of a super king size bed, well, who am I to refuse you. You’re the only one of the three, to have never rolled off the bed (for now anyway) because it’s taken me two heartstopping moments previously, to realise that babies can go from 0 – rolling in a matter of seconds.

 

 

You’re a very happy baby. Always smiling. Always chatting. I sometimes want to ask you if you like us. Are you glad that you were born into this family? I know you had no choice and I know you wouldn’t know any difffent, but I guess maybe I just want to be reassured that you love us as much as we do you. I think you do.

 

 

You’re growing so fast, baby boy, right before my eyes. I wish I could slow it down. Hold you tight and breathe in that baby smell for just a little longer. But I am loving every minute of watching you grow. Watching you learn. Watching little glimpses emerge of the child you’re going to grow into.

 

Thank you for being ours, Rufus. You’ve completed us. My little rainbow.

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