For Meggy on your 7th Birthday

Meggy,

Usually I start these birthday letters by saying I can’t believe where the time has gone, that the years have flown by in an instant or how I can’t believe my baby girl has grown so fast. But actually when it comes to you Megs, wise beyond your years and making your presence known every single day, it feels as though you’ve been around forever and I genuinely struggle to remember a world without you in it.

I’m not going to lie, life with you has never been easy, and maybe that’s the understatement of the year right there. From the second you came screaming into the world, five weeks early and dramatic as ever, you literally did not stop and honestly, there are times I look back and wonder how we ever survived it. From the years you spent in and out of hospital as a babe in my arms, to the angry little girl lashing out in frustration, there’s no doubt you pushed each of us to our limits on a daily basis. And so I could not be happier to sit here and say that six was a real turning point for you my darling girl, a year of two halves; the year that started out with such a battle on our hands and ended with you emerging as the little girl you were always supposed to be.

I could sit here and tell you all about the adventures we shared together this year Meggy, the places we have been and the memories we have made, sharing photos of your beaming smile as you ran on golden sands, ate Italian gelato, met Micky Mouse and watched the most beautiful of sunsets, but that wouldn’t be a fair representation of your year, not really.

Because as much as there were times when life was every bit as wonderful as photos would lead us to believe, for the most part each of those lovely moments and happy memories were tainted by the fact you were so poorly. Every single holiday, every day out, every special occasion without fail, you would be hiding a fever, battling a UTI, suffering another bout of tonsillitis or infection, your immune system completely giving up after all of these years fighting so hard.

As a parent there is nothing harder than seeing your child unwell, and this last year has been particularly hard as you reached an age where you realised just how much  you were missing out on. Week after week you’d be too poorly to go to school, missing birthday parties, school trips, the moments you had been looking forward to for such a long time. And whilst it killed me to see you lay there day after day, back and forth to the doctors and the hospital for tests, the thing which broke my heart the most was just how easily you accepted it. The fact you had become so accustomed to feeling poorly every single day of your life that you genuinely didn’t know any different.

There are countless moments in life I could list when I have been proud of you Meggy. The day you said your first proper word – helicopter – or your two year check when the health visitor said she had never seen a child of your age so advanced. Your first day of nursery or of school, when you walked straight inside without a second look back, or your first nativity when you beamed with pride with tinsel around your head. And yet honestly, holding your hand as you were wheeled down to theatre, just nine days before Christmas to have your tonsils and adenoids removed, at last, was my proudest moment by far. You were the bravest, most courageous little girl we have ever known and I wish I could have had even half of your bravery that day as we put our faith in the hands of the surgeon and began the worlds longest wait.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when you woke with a smile on your face, overjoyed to discover the surgeon had knocked out your first tooth in the process, and proceeded to eat 8 pieces of toast in your hospital bed whilst relishing every bit of attention from the nurses over the length of your hair. And in the coming days you amazed us all with the way you bounced right back, acting as though nothing at all had happened, tucking into your Christmas dinner just one week later without a single word of complaint. It’s funny because everybody  told us you would be a different child post surgery and, with you, it was almost instant. You finally slept properly for the first time in your life, you shot up and filled out in no time, your eyes regained their sparkle and when you smiled you literally radiated happiness like never before.

On New Years Day as I tucked you into bed, I will never forget how you said to me, “Mummy I’m going to be so happy in 2020, my tonsils made me so sad and angry.” And as I kissed you goodnight and whispered nothing but happy thoughts, in private I cried for each of the last six years and how all of those hardships and all of those outburst suddenly made perfect sense. And I promised myself we would make it up to you in every single way possible this coming year.

And maybe 2020 didn’t turn out quite as we had planned, and maybe it wasn’t the year we would travel to all of the places we had hoped to, but it turns out this time at home together was exactly what we needed and I don’t think I have ever seen you happier. Your self confidence and your ability to express yourself has soared, you are articulate and intuitive and completely unafraid to be different, and you have honestly never been more beautiful because of it.

Your favourite thing in the whole world is to make other people happy, be that with little notes left lying around on scraps of paper, carefully drawn pictures to take into school for your teacher, or acting silly to make your siblings crease over with hilarity. You thrive on the sound of our laughter, acting even crazier as tears stream down our faces, and in those moments you bring so much happiness to even the darkest of days.

You are sensitive and intuitive, and when you love someone you love with your whole heart, unconditionally and without question. You give the best cuddles Megs, the most kisses, and when I tuck you into bed at night you hold me for that little bit longer, telling me I am the best Mummy in all the world right when I need to hear it the most.

The love your have for your siblings is something else, the way you mother Harry in the kindest, most gentle of ways, the friendship you share with Eva, your very best friend in all the world, and your admiration for Lewis, falling into his arms every time he comes in through the door. But it’s your love for Joseph that takes my breath away Meggy, the way you speak about him not with sadness or regret, but with such pure acceptance and clarification, it somehow heals my heart in ways I never thought possible.

I could sit here all day and write about how clever you are, how you can read a book in two seconds flat and write the most incredible, imaginative stories without a second thought. I could tell you about the dance routines you create, the songs you write and perform, your dreams of performing on Britains Got Talent, and how every time you put on a dress you look in the mirror and say,  “Ooh I look so pretty!”.

But of all the memories we’ve made together this year, and all of the experiences we’ve been fortunate to share, the very best thing to happen was that we finally got our happy and healthy little girl back. And gosh, you were worth the wait.

Happy 7th Birthday to our little dancing queen, we love you all the stars in the sky.

Love from Mummy xxx