Today you said I Love You

Strictly speaking it wasn't quite the first time you said it, but it was the first time you said it unprompted and not as a result of a little game. You just hugged my leg and said it. Wow... quite possibly the loveliest thing I've ever heard.

God, it's been two months since I last posted and before that it was a long while too. I guess that's because we've settled into our routine and everything is less challenging. Over time, my confidence has grown and I have less urgent need to write and let off steam here! Although this was as much for you as for me, so I should just keep up to date with what you're up to.

So, you're two and a half now and this week you started going to nursery. Well, not quite started, but we're doing a two week warm up. You were fine, jumped straight in and joined in. I got a little gulp of emotion watching you wander around, handing things to the women that work there. There was a little boy there, who must be one or 1.5. There was something lost about him, he was very quiet, and I thought he was quite lovely. It got me to thinking about a second adoption...

Anyway, let's try and put down what you're up to these days: you spend three days a week with Pa and two with me, then the weekends together. You love dancing around to music and you usually sing along as best you can, which you do pretty well, you can actually hold a note. You are quite good at playing by yourself when in the mood – playing with little figures and animals, or reading books. You've started in that role play thing – where you line up your toys & animals, and make them talk to eachother. I also hear you say to them things I say to you. You love going for walks, it doesn't really matter where we end up, it's all about the journey for you. You love going to Tate Modern to look at stuff, in fact you are good at art generally and enjoy being places where there's lots of people. You're not so great at eating, you can't quite be bothered with it. At mealtimes I have to read in order to get you to concentrate on something so that I can put food in your tummy. Book of the moment is Jane Asher's book of dressing up costumes! It is brilliant, it has people dressed as carrots and ships. You especially love the Baby Ghost, the Grim Reaper (which you pronounce very well) and the man jumping out the cake. You make us look at that book again and again and again. I've had to hide it cos I was getting v bored of it! We also look at the book of information graphics, which sounds dull, but is actually really good. You like Fuzzy Felt. You love dinosaurs and own a rather large scary looking one. You have a lovely little doctor's kit which you tend to the dinosaurs and other animals with. You're definitely enjoying tantrums on a daily basis. I think you get frustrated with something sometimes, even though it's hard to figure out what, and you brilliantly throw yourself across the floor flailing your little arms and legs around. We have a naughty step which sees a lot of action now. You're very good though, on the whole, you do actually sit there for the two minutes til we come and get you. Sometimes you sit there smiling, looking very mischievous and I have to look away not to laugh, but sometimes you are screaming or really upset. But it seems to work and we're always careful to explain why you're there, get you to say sorry, and have a good old cuddle after.

You are very chatty and your language is brilliant. You were always a good talker, and have gotten better and better. It makes communicating with you so much easier and more fun. I talk to you quite normally, explain things to you, and you seem to understand pretty much everything. You're starting to understand today & tomorrow. I think. You're still waaaaay ahead of all the boys, who are still more or less grunting ;)


You're very good at sharing and you don't hit other kids I say that cos some of your little pals do already. Not nice. I don't have much patience for it. Hopefully nursery won't bring that out in you...

I think that I might make a book of all these postings for you, just in case the internet crashed and burns one day! Thought it might be quite interesting for you to read one day and to have the photos, where you can see yourself get bigger & bigger. I look back at early photos and realise what an absolute tiddler you were. So cute. Still are. Best Louse ever.

So many things, so many days gone by

Wow, more than two months since I last wrote! How did that happen. I know how – work, home, you, tidy, cook, eat, tidy, flop, sleep, up, dressed, work, home, you, tidy, cook, eat, tidy, flop, sleep, up, dressed, Busy Bees etc etc.

You are doing a ton of things that you weren't doing two months ago; your language has evolved to the point where we're almost having conversations, you are obsessed with drawing faces – sad, happy & grumpy, you are having daily tantrums, you love dancing as much as ever and have been to your first baby disco, you sing songs to me now, you tell your toys stories and talk to them, you think Talking Carl on my phone is a little friend, your colouring-in is astoundingly good, you can count to 12 perfectly and to 20 a little randomly, you know how to work us like puppets and you gave us our first serious A&E scare two weeks ago by stopping breathing and passing out. And I'm sure there's more. Oh yeah, everyone still thinks you're the cutest thing ever.

It's nearly Christmas now and you've become quite aware that Christmas is a fun thing and I am finding myself getting into the spirit of it much more as a result. We've got a tree you keep pulling the baubles off, we're got twinkly fairy lights and we've taken you to a pantomime starring none less than Mr Tumble. You were transfixed! You almost didn't move for two hours, it was brilliant. You know Christmas means presents too; I caught you on tip-toes trying to reach for some presents on the sideboard a few days ago. I thought you'd gone suspiciously quiet and there you were, reaching silently.

Now, the A&E thing. That was one of the most heart stopping moments of my life. You did the long silent scream and I was joking, going, here it comes, here comes the big loud scream... But it didn't come, you went limp and lifeless and white, still not breathing. My mind simultaneously went blank and a thousand different scenarios flashed through my mind as to why this was happening, all of them terrifying. Luckily I was with friends, someone called 999 immediately and all was ok. Apparently it's a strangely common thing kids can do. Duck me though... you dare ever do it again... I will only be 50% less terrified no matter how much the doctor said it's not harmful.

We've seen P&A&C again, which was nice. A told me after that she had a word with P for talking about the past in front of you. She correctly realised that you are going to start understanding these things soon and it mustn't be by overhearing conversations. I was glad she realised this as I have too in recent months, but it also brought forward the fact that I am going to have to start telling you stuff, sooner rather than later. It guts me; I don't care how many people tell me the younger the better, it'll be fine long as you don't hide anything, what do they know. I will never stop wishing that you had come out of my belly and that my being your mum was never in question. It would all be so much simpler then. I suppose I think people think of me as not your 'real' mum because I didn't give birth to you. I hate that my mum-ness is diminished and I go back to being a barren infertile woman. Of course I worry that you will reject me too, use adoption as an excuse to reject me when you're a teenager and doing what teenagers tend to do. I probably need to start reading a few books to prepare myself. Or just talk to mates with teenagers cos I might find that much of it has nothing to do with adoption.

At the moment we have a very strong bond and it's hard to think that one day, it might not be so. However, let's keep it cheery – we do have a strong bond and you will know what you need to know in digestible chunks from an early age so no nasty shocks. We will be behind you every step of the way, whatever you decide to do, and however hard that might be inside, we'll suck it up for your sake.

*Happy face*

Yesterday you watched me run my first half marathon

It was a big thing for me that run yesterday, because it is the culmination of something that started more than five years ago, when I first found out I would be unable to have babies without assistance. And so there we were yesterday, Pa, you and me, our little family, all there to see me do something I never in a million years thought I was capable of, with you, the kid I never thought I'd have.

Ok, I didn't "have" you, but I am your Ma in every single way that I can be, especially deep in my heart. You have become a part of me as deeply as any biological child could have, I see no difference. The only difference is when other people impose one. Like when they refer to D as your mother. I am Louse's mother, I say plainly. Yes, they say, but you know what I mean. No, I don't know. It offends me deeply when people who know me well say this thing to me, casually, like it's just words. How can they look at me and call D your mother to my face?? I have come to realise over the last five years how often people unwittingly say stupid thoughtless things like this and don't see the harm in what they say.

We bumped into P & C at the park yesterday, they had come to see me finish the race but missed me ad by pure coincidence we bumped into them later. We were with our friends and one part of me was pleased to introduce them to P & C, but as always another bit of me recoiled. You held your arms out to P and as always, I recoiled a bit at that too. I want you not to recognise them any more to be honest. But if you've been reading this blog, then you know this already. I'm sorry, it's not very generous of me, but this is a place for true feelings, in all their glory, unpleasant as some may be.

Today is also te first day that you let me put anything in your hair, bobbles & clips. You looked like a proper little girl suddenly, more grown up somehow.

A few day ago you cried when I held another baby

And when I say cried, I mean proper upside down mouth and big wailing crying!

I was a little taken aback. Is that normal or have you now attached to me that strongly?? It is lovely of course, to be wanted so much but I was also probably a bit worried in that brain-fast-forwarding-thru-different-scenarios way - have I made you too needy, will you be hard work at nursery, will you form too-stron attachments to people, etc. (see, this is why I run, to quieten down the brain chatter). I know it's fine really, I'm just being anxious.

A parent, bein anxious, worrying about their parenting abilities and how their beloved little ones will fit into society? Who'd have thought.

Photo shall follow. Hope iPhone sort this out soon...

Today you decided what you wanted to wear for the first time

You are starting to love dresses; you certainly like trying on clothes when I'm sat in your room figuring out what to dress you in. And this morning, I was being indecisive as usual when you grabbed a dress a Japanese friend just sent. I thought it was a little big, but I put it on you for a laugh and it was ok, so we went with it. It's not often I dress you in pink, but today there is no doubt that you are a girl.

I just listened to a Radio 4 show about children in care and the effects on them their early life experiences have on them. I listened with interest, but I also separated myself from the programme, telling myself that as you were well looked after (apart from the two weeks where they tried to encourage contact with D) and you came to us right when you turned one, it didn't apply to you. Partly I think that's true, but I also think that I want to forget about adoption. You feel so much ours, I hate reminding myself that you started out somewhere else. And yet I am also very proud of your heritage on D's side and I look forward to telling you about your birth family as people. But see, even just there, I tried to find a way other than "birth family" of referring to them. Anyway, on the radio show I was talking about, there was a mother & daughter who had come together when the little girl was 7, and they seemed to have a very close relationship despite the late adoption. The woman very firmly said "my daughter" several times and she said it very naturally. I thought that was lovely. I hope that none of the information that will come to you rocks our relationship. I am sure though that many things will test us, but I hope we are laying the foundations strongly and deeply enough to make our family sturdy enough to withstand whatever will be thrown at us.

Yesterday we went to the hospital where you were born

Although we were there once before for your general medical, for some reason on this visit (to get your eyes checked, turns out you're a bit short sighted) I found myself thinking about D, birth mother. As I walked through the corridoors I thought of her arriving here just over two years ago, in a state and in labour. I kept thinking I might see her, it made me feel strangely connected to the place. Recently, some woman I was talking to in a playground or something, asked me your birth weight. It looked so odd that I didn't know to the exact gramme. I checked so now I know - 2.68kg. Tiny.

So the eye exam revealed that you are indeed a little near sighted. No glasses yet but we'll go back in four months for a second assessment. You might be a bit more compliant with the doctors trying to look in your eyes by then... Maybe... They mentioned that it could be an issue related to D's behaviour when pregnant, that her actions may well have affected your development. It's the first time it's been said really. It sort of struck me, as til now it's just been a case of - hey, she's just petite. And maybe you are; time will tell.

All of that made me think about the fact that you have a history before August 14th last year and about the fact that it is no longer at the forefront of my mind on a day to day basis. But it also made me feel sad for you. Partly that someone else's actions could affect you when you asked for nothing, and partly cos one day we're going to have to tell you all about that, about D, about how she was & what she did. From my friend that is adopted I know it brings a fundamental rejection that can never really be healed. I wish I could protect you from that hurt but I can only love you as I do now, keep you on the straight & narrow, and hopefully make you secure enough that it won't totally crumble your world.

It seems to me that we are all fully registerig that we are now a family. For Pa and me, passing the year marker was significant as it meant we had been a family at least as long as you had been with P&A. But you - recently you keep looking at me, patting me and saying "mummy". And when we're all three together you'll pat Pa too and state "daddy". It's as if you're stating it, affirming it, checking it, saying out loud in recognition. I always reply - yes, Louse's mummy.

Oh dear, I seem to have something in my eye...

Three days since we tried potty training

I wonder if anyone becomes the sort of parent they imagine they will be. I have been around kids a lot before becoming a mum, I know it's not the same as having the ultimate responsibility, but I had lived a close quarters with family & friends and their kids so felt quite confident in my parenting abilities.

It has come as a surprise to me how much I can question what I'm doing, look to others to see what they're doing and generally get my knickers in a twist. I worry a lot, when you're tantruming publicly for example, that people will think I'm a rubbish mum, that you're out of control or not happy or something. I'm amazed at how much I care what others think. I'm not sure if this would have happened anyway or if it has come as a byproduct of adoption and all the responsibilities that come with that. I don't think it's 100% responsible, but I do reckon it plays a part because it feels like we have extra pressure to make sure you're ok as a person in the long run, given your family background. It makes me realise how utterly lucky we were to get you so young. Already, now you're two, I can see how much bigger a transition it would have been for you if you were that bit older.

So the last three days we have been somewhat prisoner in the house as we decided to have a go at potty training, the hard way ie nappies off and that's it, no big trips out until the potty is being used regularly. Three days in I have cracked and I think perhaps you're not quite ready. You ticked all the boxes that the book indicated, but you pee and poop freely with no conception of the potty and its function, other than a funny chair I sit you on now and then. Here's a case in point, where I thought I'd be all relaxed and organic, and then I find myself following the instructions of some woman who thinks that kids need Draconian regimes to keep them in control (she has no kids). Anyway, we'll relax a little and let you warm to it in your own time. If only because there is only so much time I care to spend on my knees picking up poops and waving them bye-bye down the loo, while you shout for juice or strawberries or something. Never thought I'd be so relieved to put a nappy back on you...

Yesterday you counted to ten, perfectly. You have also started forming slightly sophisticated sentences – you were saying something was funny and doing your fake forced laugh; very cute. You have a mirror face that you pull. You still have an annoying tendency to toss your food onto the floor (more knee time for me). You are starting to be able to drink from a glass without drowning. You love throwing water over yourself with a cup when in the bath. We wake up to a naked you in the cot, proudly waving your pyjamas and nappy around at us. You are having super long naps, 3 hours. And when I'm in the playground with you, I feel very proud that you're mine.