This post was written back in October 2019 but not published until July 2020.
A letter to the woman in the photo that just appeared on my timehop memories.
Me. Eight years ago. Eight months pregnant.
The first thing you need to know is that you’re going to be okay.
It’s going to be okay.
You’ve done so bloody well getting through the last 6 months not knowing that. You will look back in awe one day at the strength you have found and the ease with which you found it. Cling tight to it for now though. You will need it.
She’s remarkable that baby you have tucked up in there. She’s going to completely transform your life, your sense of identity, your heart. You did the right thing choosing to hope, choosing to let her try.
I know it’s been a strange day, a strange baby shower. There were lots of questions beforehand about presents, did you want things for baby or for you? What is the protocol when the baby isn’t expected to survive? When you look back though you will only remember a happy love-filled (cake-filled) afternoon with the women you love most and you’ll remember the gratitude you are feeling now for their love and their presence in this experience.
In 8 years time you will be awake in the middle of the night. Lying on a fold out bed by her hospital bedside. It’s not a scary hospital stay (Yep, there are categories of hospital stays, you have a system to record them, I mean of course you do, this is you we’re talking about).
She’s asleep and her hand is resting out of a gap in the side of her bed. You’ve been watching it for about ten minutes, The tiny reflex movements and the way the muscles completely relax when she sleeps .
Your phone will throw up an ‘eight years ago today’ memory of the photo taken this afternoon. It will remind you how far you have come.
There’s too much to tell you that you will learn along the way but until then, know this. Trust your gut, turns out when it comes to Mojo you are never wrong when you go with your instinct. Also don’t worry ‘Mojo’ isn’t what you Christen her but it is what literally everyone calls her. You’re not sure at first but then you read a definition of Mojo as ‘a little bit of magic’ and suddenly it seems like the most appropriate abbreviated name any child has ever had.
You’re going to be fine, did I mention that.
Take more photos, google things less, put up a fight sooner if something doesn’t feel right for her. Ask for help more, don’t be such a bloody martyr, other people are capable of doing things right too, ease off on the control freak tendencies for your sake and everyone else’s!
You’ve got this. You’re doing great.
Now do me a favour and go stare in a mirror at your shiny youthful face bag-less eyes and naturally brown hair because of all the things you have gained in the last 8 years those are a price you pay.
With love from 8-years-in-the-future you.
Oh and P.S when baby number 3 arrives in seven and a half years time don’t freak out so much, that will be fine too.