A Letter to Coco... vol 3

A Letter to Coco... vol 3

Journal Entries dedicated to my daughter

I wrote the letter below on February 3, at 00:55. Baby on chest, phone in arms. It is going to feel so strange when I no longer assume that position, as it has been my default state for what feels like an eternity now, though it's only been five months. I cannot count the number of times I have said the words 'five months' in the last week. It is the first month that it has hit me hard, that my baby is showing me more of her personality and that she's her own (tiny little, but still) person. It's also the first time I have felt like saying -'time stop going so quickly'! I am really trying to savour this first year and I am now approaching the half way point!

A Letter to coco vol 3

I've just spent the last 10mins staring at your face. It's past midnight and you're up. All the books say you should be sleeping through the night at this age, but I don't care, not just now, anyway. Right now, it feels like we're stealing precious moments with each other.

I've been looking at your sweet face everyday over the last five months now and let me tell you, it has not gotten old. I closed my eyes just now and tried to visualise when you were little and didn't stretch quite as long down my upper body, or do as much chattering and reaching & touching, but it was hard to see that old, little you. The memories have started to slip away. Time, that is such a treasure, bringing you growth and these wonderful new skills, is also taking away all the those old moments and replacing them with new ones, at a rate which my memory cannot keep up with.

As I stared, you did a weak and sleepy smile. I countered with a big cheesy one, but your eyes were already closed. I thought of your teenage years ahead. When I'll be trying to hold on to my baby and you'll give me glimpses/reminders of that baby, but then, I am told, far too quickly, you'll move your thoughts and attention to something new, different and maybe 'cooler'.

On Saturday, you smiled at a 7 year old girl at the shops, but she didn't see you. I watched all three seconds of it and it broke my heart. I thought of all the people that are going to hurt your feelings in the future, and not even know it. I'll be in the background, thinking the same thing I thought on Saturday, 'don't you see her? She lovely, she's special, she's wonderful...' But I won't be able to save you from every hurt and even if I could, it would make no sense to, because hurting is a part of life and living. It has it's own purpose. (I'll try to remember that in those painfully frustrating, future moments.)

If my only achievement in life is having you, I know that I would be 100% satisfied. Not because I have no other aspirations or dreams, but because those will never top the privilege of birthing you and being your mother. Being trusted with something as fragile as a life and soul, for eighteen years plus, is truly something that warrants careful thinking, reflecting, role modelling and loving.

I pray that God keeps you. That He teaches us to help you grow in wisdom, stature and favour with Him and people around you. I thank Him for the ability to provide for you, raise you and love you. Most importantly, how wonderful that He loves you more - unconditionally, in a way that your Dad and I, or anyone else, never could.

Kiss kiss Coco, our cheeky, curious, adventurous, little girl!

Mama & Dad

A Letter to Coco... vol 3