What a village

Dear Alexis,

As we approach your 7th birthday, I can’t help but feel completely nostalgic. It happens this time of year, every year. At around this time, seven years ago, I had gone into pre-term labour and was lying in a hospital bed hoping you wouldn’t enter the world 6 weeks early.

I was so nervous about giving birth to you but, even more so, about becoming your mum.
I was feeling let down by society. There had been so much information on birthing and labour but not nearly as much on how to become a strong, supportive, encouraging mother.

I had my first contraction on August 10th at 3.20am, 12 days before your due date, apparently you couldn’t wait any longer. Still, you wouldn’t come into the world until August 11th at 12.29am. At the time, I so badly wanted to give birth on the 10th as the 11th just seemed so far away. Those very first contractions were hurting and it seemed to me that it was too early for them to be hurting that much. To distract myself, I watched Jurassic Park. I remember counting through the contractions. I could do anything for 60 seconds and a contraction was only meant to last for that long. So, I would count. “Halfway there,” I would think to myself as I reached 30 seconds.

I remember asking the midwife for a room to myself but she told me that I was only 4cms dilated. 4cms. It felt like nothing. It was 1cm per hour. 6 more hours of this, I reassured myself, just like a shift at work.

I spent time in the bath and using gas to manage my pain but I was too tired to continue by myself. I was wheeled to a room so they could use the ventouse on your little baby head to help pull you out. And then, there you were. In my arms.

We stayed in hospital for 4 days and then it was time to go home. I cried. I wasn’t ready to leave. I wasn’t ready for the responsibility of keeping another person alive. I didn’t have the capacity to raise you. But here we are – seven years on – and you’re thriving. You are an intelligent, sensitive, brave and kind human. Everyday you’re growing and learning.

I wish I could say it was all me, that your beautiful personality was all my doing. But it’s not. I can’t say that it’s all because of your Dad and I either. We knew, even before you were born, that we didn’t want to be the only ones to raise you. We didn’t know a thing about raising a child. But there were others who knew either a little or a lot more than us. We knew it would take a village.

And what a village it is.

Within days of your existence you were surrounded by so many people, some who continue to stand with you even to this is.

As we approach your 7th birthday, I can’t help but think of all the incredible people who have impacted on both your dad’s and my life. These people have made us who we are and have helped to determine what kind of impact we have on you.

Then there are all the people who love you so much that they have babysat you, spent time with you, cuddled you when we weren’t there, played with you while we were at work and taught you skills that we couldn’t have. Those who, even though you aren’t theirs, love and adore you, who miss you when you’re not around.

Grandparents, partners, friends, relatives, educators, teachers. There are more than I can count. More than I could ever say thank you to. Not that I could even begin to find the words to thank them.

Then there were those times when I felt as if I didn’t have the capacity to be a mum to you, all the times that I had appointments and others stepped in because they saw that I needed professional support. Those people did not only love and support you. They loved and supported me too.

Although I reflect so much on your birth at this time of the year, it is your life which always catches my breath. The beauty of it. The love you have known. The love you will always know. The friendships you have made and kept. The adventures you’ve had. The first time you wrote your name at the Salty Dog. The cuddles we enjoy together. Your first steps at home. The first time you crawled towards Joseph at a youth camp. I know, I know, every child goes through these stages but, these ones, these are your moments. And my moments, I feel so privileged to have been there to witness them.

I love that your dad and I weren’t the only ones to teach and show you about life. There have been so many other trusted people along for the ride with you too. Your village contains more people than we can count on our fingers and toes.
Over the years, we’ve continued to welcome new, beautiful people into our lives and I can only hope there are more to come. To support you, teach you, love you, ground you, cheer you on, believe in you and adventure with you.

Alexis, you successes will never just be mine. They belong to all those who have invested in you and will continue to do so.

I am so humbled that so many other people are there for you and see your worth.

What a village you have cheering you on!