Last night I wrote a blog post for the first time in weeks, I’ve been really struggling lately and it was a very honest account of that and of some bad news we had recently about more surgery for Mojo. As I usually do I asked my husband to read through before I published it. As I watched him read I saw the sadness creep over his face. There was nothing there he didn’t know but it was evidently difficult for him to see it written down. When he finished reading he didn’t say anything for a minute and then he said ‘yeah, it’s good…but when you write about carrying Mojo it’s we not I’.
This morning I watched as he labouriously constructed a DIY sun shade den in the garden so that Mojo could play out and a completely different blog appeared…
Since it’s Father’s Day there are a few things I’ve been meaning to let you know these last 5 years, so here goes.
Thank you for having faith in me when everyone thought it was hopeless to give me a chance.
Thank you for being brave enough to challenge the neo-natal consultant who wanted to refuse me basic intervention the day I was born.
Thank you for sleeping in a chair by my hospital bed more times than either of us would care to remember.
Thank you for getting up from that chair and going to work as though you were living a normal life. You did that for us so that Mummy could be there to be my voice and my advocate and we love you for it. We know it’s hard to leave.
Thank you for being there when I wake up at night. From the 4am feeds when I first started to take a bottle at 10 weeks old to the 3am feeds 6 years later it is usually your bleary eyed face I see first when I wake in the night. Your reaction time beats mummy’s hands down.
Thank you for getting angry and frustrated with medics and medical admin. When we first started this journey mummy was too polite and passive and trusting. You taught her that we know best and that means sometimes we have to fight. Now mummy can fight like you and I have always been able to.
Thank you for always carrying me to the sea, for lifting me to see whatever it is my non-disabled friends are looking at, for holding me on the horse, for sitting on the floor at parties so I can join in, for facilitating my inclusion more than anyone else in the world. You are an extension of me and my life is greatly enhanced by your commitment to making sure I am where the action is!
Thank you for the laughing, the laughing until we get hiccups, the laughing through the tears, the
laughing at mummy, the laughing at life, the laughing at ourselves.
Thank you for rough and tumble, thank you for treating me like my sister, for not excluding me from tickles and rolling around on the floor, or the grass, or the sand. I bloody love it.
Thank you for being brave enough to let me have a sister, I know we are flippin hard work but I love her and I love you for bringing her into my life.
Thank you for saving the best version of yourself for me, for putting me first every time, for planning your career, your time, your day, your life around me.
Thank you for keeping mummy safe, and sane. I know that she has bad days when she feels sad and lost and scared. Thank you for lifting her up and encouraging her to fight on. She’s might not be quite as strong as me and you but she does it with your help.
Thank you for being our daddy, thank you for everything that you do for us from learning all the Frozen songs in Makaton to sitting up all night just to keep me in a comfortable sleeping position.
There is nobody quite like you and we love you so so much.
Thank you Daddy.
All my love,
Your Mojo xxx