01/11/11 - The fact that this day two years ago marks the day you were born is a double layer cake of emotion for me. It’s a weird dichotomy that even I (self-confessed Madame Motormouth) struggle to describe. On the one hand it feels like just yesterday I looked into your little face for the first time and you held my gaze with your trademark quizzical frown as if to say “Yes it’s me. I am here. I am your daughter. Get a grip now Mother…let’s get on with it shall we.’ That look was exactly what I needed. I can still remember so much of that day. All the edges are still clear, time hasn’t blurred any lines. It’s all still there. Every part of the experience of the day we welcomed you into the world. On the other hand however, you have become such an integral part of our lives. You're so woven into the fabric of our thoughts and memories that to record your time with us as only two years seems wrong somehow. It’s not profound enough. It’s too brief and seems too trivial to mark the impact you’ve had on all of us.
I have watched as you have tackled each milestone of your development with such grace and purpose. Focused but with a gentle and relaxed attitude that means even when you struggle, you don’t let it get you down. You persistently and cheerfully keep trucking along. It’s almost as though you recognise already that failure is part of the journey. And you’re ok with that. Granted, you will still throw yourself on the floor in mock hysteria at the news that you will not be getting the scone you’ve asked for five minutes before bedtime, but this is less to do with how you deal with life’s blows and more, I believe, with your penchant for performance. Within five minutes you’re back to your cheerful self. Crisis averted. Happiness restored. You will persevere to get it right. Whether you’re fitting blocks on top of each other or hanging up your coat. You don’t give up. This could later perhaps be construed as stubborn, however to me it’s a sign of strength that I hope to help you nurture in the right way. This strength runs in your family Gabriella. Your great-grandmothers, grandmothers, aunts… these incredible women that you either sadly didn't ever meet, or those who you share life with now – are (or were) blessed with extraordinary strength of character. Embrace this legacy with pride. It is your birthright.
Your lightness of spirit has been a source of wonder for me. I think this is because I am for the most part, a grumpy cow. I have to dig deep to be cheerful. My default setting is to be rather negative. I’m a glass shattered kind of girl. But you’re genuinely and consistently happy. And this is a marvel for me. You’re happy even when you should be miserable. I’ll never forget when I took you for a round of vaccinations at the clinic and I brought your brother along. With his big blue eyes he took in every part of the process of how I had to hold you down for the nurse to administer those injections. How you scrunched up your face and bawled with the shock, pain and indignity of it all. It was when he began to weep uncontrollably that your cries stopped. You followed him with your eyes and offered him a brave smile. Trying to communicate before your words were ready, before you could speak. To make an effort to comfort him and let him know you were ok. When we left that nurse’s room you carried on smiling, the picture of cooing calm while I led your sobbing brother out into the waiting room. One mum even believed that it was he who’d had the vaccinations. He was that distraught over the whole experience of witnessing your pain, our sensitive little Ollie. In the car while he cried some more and I tried to soothe him, you maintained your eye contact and offered him your gummy smile as a gift. He accepted it. Seeing that you were your usual non-fussed little self helped him to come to terms with the whole scary episode. Being happy is your default setting. You choose it. At the right moment, every moment. I am so in awe of this gift.
You love with all of who you are. And this too is a gift. You’re tactile and affectionate. Your Dad is the apple of your eye. You are your Father’s little girl, no doubt about it. He wept with joy at your birth. On that day and today and forever he is so incredibly proud of you. Since you were a tiny baby, you have rested your head on his chest and there you will remain perfectly still and content in the cocoon of protection within his arms. With me, you snuggle into that nook just below my ear, underneath my hair. This is your place. When you need comfort. When you’re just saying hello. You lavish both your father and I with equal attention and affection. But your true adoration you reserve for your brother Oliver. He is your protector. He is your confidante. Your playmate. Your partner in crime. He is your world. You follow him everywhere. Copy his every move. Nothing he does will deter you from trailing in his wake. You love him unconditionally and the bond you share is remarkable. We have discovered you both fast asleep in each other’s arms on your bottom bunk. I have witnessed you gently pat his arm when he is upset, whispering, “It’s ok Ollie. It will be ok Ollie.” You shower him with spontaneous hugs, kisses and (mostly) unrequited affection. You sing to him. You tell him stories about the moon. You laugh together. You cry together. You love no else in quite the same way. Your faith in him helps him to feel more confident in himself. You have taught him just as much as he you. My hope is that this bond remains as strong as it is now in years to come.
So to my little girl who walks on her tippy toes, dances in the wind and looks for the moon and stars at every opportunity – happy birthday to you sweetheart. Stay just the way you are. Never give up when the going is tough, choose happiness everyday and love with all of your little being. And life will continue to remain the source of joy and delight it is for you at this very moment. And you will be rich in life Gabriella - beyond all measure or imagining.
With all my love….and in due course with many toasts of birthday champagne cheer that you have already developed a taste for.
Your grumpy baggage of a Mother…who is so very proud of you. x
 |
| Gabriella - our crazy beautiful little girl. |
