Four years, nine months, 28 days since trying to become a mum and four months since becoming one

You're much better today. You threw stuff around. I was relieved.

Tell you what though, I realise quite how stressed and anxious I have felt over these past few days as I keep having palpitations. Something I am prone to anyway and there is a term for it (hyper something tacky cardic), but since running a lot the episodes had become quite rare. However, I ended up taking a beta blocker today to get a grip on them. I don't need twice the anxiety!

Who knew parenting could be so fraught. Well, you know cos you hear people talk about it, but you don't actually KNOW until you're in it. Then you wish you'd listened... But anyway, all is fine and I will know the signs to watch out for next time because of course there will be a next time and maybe next time your temp will hit 40 degrees plus, the A&E temperature.

Was it wrong to think about taking a little diazepam today...

Four years, nine months, 25 days since trying to become a mum and three months 29 days since becoming one

I wanted to write this now, in the moment, while my heart is still beating fast. What an evening.

It's now 3am Christmas Day morning and I have not yet slept. You've been poorly for a couple of days with what we presumed was another bout of nasty teething – a runny nose, a cough, nappy rash, albeit with really nasty sores that definitely go beyond the usual nappy rash, and generally not quite yourself. But on Christmas eve, that's yesterday officially but still today for me not having had the marker of sleep yet, you were very listless, not at all hungry and bloody hot. I gave you some Calpol, took your temperature then put you to bed. We then had friends round, got a bit drunk, got a bit festive, nice evening yada yada, then they left, then I thought – I'll just check her to make sure she's ok and guess what, your temperature had soared to 38.4. Someone had told me that anything above 38 is a visit to A&E so I immediately went into panic mode. My head was suddenly racing with all sorts of scenarios, none of them good and all of them dramatic. I started to pack a bag, think about phoning a taxi, all while you're still in your cot, trying to sleep with me & Old Pa Cooke going into meltdown around you. Luckily I thought to phone our friends next door, I knew they were up as they had not long left, as they have three kids between them so are two ahead of us in terms of dealing with such situations. Mike said that actually a temp higher than 40 was cause for A&E and he suggested I ring NHS to get their advice.

I did. I listened, I made them repeat things, cos I'm still panicking at this point, and I then administered more medicine, removed some layers of clothing, gave you some more milk and put you back down to sleep for an hour til I had to check your temp again. I then got dressed for A&E anyway, set an alarm and we sat on the sofa watching some crap film, waiting. Course Pa fell into a deep slumber, but skittish that I am, I awoke at the first millisecond beep of the alarm and went up to take your temp again. Poor Louse, you were so deeply asleep and I had to wake you again. You were all confused, too tired to cry really. But I pinned you down, shoved the thermometre up your bum and took another reading, praying it would be at least 1 degree down from 38.4.

And it was. So you're all asleep again, my heart is beginning to slow down and I'm writing this before finally going to bed.

All that to say, I know people have stayed up all night with their kids before, monitoring their fevers, but when it's your turn... ducking heck. Just now, cuddling you before putting you back down in your cot, I cried a bit. Ok, quite a bit. If I didn't already realise that I love you deeply, I do now.

No photo this time, it would be really too cruel to wake you to get a photo of your tired snotty face.

Four years, nine months, 20 days since trying to become a mum and three months 24 days since becoming one

The egg I gave you for breakfast seems to be coming back to haunt me this evening as I put you to bed. Who knew such a pretty thing could produce such fumes.

I crossed a small personal milestone yesterday. We took you to Big Shopping Centre to Santa's Magical Wonderland or some such, and met with foster folks that had looked after you so well til we came along. Your departure from them was very hard for them, like a grief, so the last time we met them was very emotional for all. On my part, I felt very insecure in my position as your mother, as they had known you for longer at that point and kept talking about things you do/did. My reaction was to retreat somewhat, even though they came to our house, to let you run to them and not push myself forward for cuddles, feeding etc. You were so delighted to see them, it threw me. I kept thinking that they had the power to stop it all, to decide that we weren't good enough and to have you removed from us. It was a sharp reminder that we are still in a process and there are still hurdles to jump. Not too many more now though, but at that point, it was all still relatively fresh. I was relieved to see them leave, not because I don't like them, but because I found the visit gruelling. We were still very much in the process of establishing ourselves as your mummy & daddy, and in my mind they threatened that.

In contrast, yesterday was good fun. We met somewhere neutral at Big Shopping Centre. I had asked that we not go to theirs for lunch as I feared it would upset and confuse you, it being not that long since you lived there, even if your timescale is different to ours. I found it hard to ask them that, but was glad I did and appreciated their respecting my decision. They seemed happier, more 'over' their grief, so everyone seemed more relaxed, plus we had activities to keep us busy. You were again happy to see them, though this time there was a moment of hesitation before you went to them. And crucially, you turned to me regularly for comfort and reassurance throughout the day, and I made sure I was there ready to take you, not hesitating, not feeling guilty for having you. I definitely established myself, as much to myself as anyone else, as your mummy.

They showered you with gifts for Christmas. You are a very lucky girl to have had people like them in your life, even if you will be unaware of quite how much they did for a few years yet. And in turn, we are the luckiest ma & pa on the planet to have you land on our doorstep. I never dared hope it could be this good.

Oh yeah, it's been snowing and I took you out to the park and put you on the swings. You were not amused.

Four years, nine months, 16 days since trying to become a mum and three months 20 days since becoming one

What do you know, it's nap time again. It's 50/50 whether you will actually fall asleep or whether you will chatter and chuck things around in order to get my attention. Anyway, I shall grab my moment.

You are becoming much more vocal about your needs, frustrations and desires. No longer a passive little baby, not that you ever were, now a swaggering chattering toddler who I can almost have conversations with. We look each other in the eye much more; a nod and wink, things are understood.

The days that I am not with you are a challenge for both of us. I miss you and try not to interfere with daddy's way of doing things. And you sense that it is not a normal day, and very quickly let us know that you don't like these changes afoot; nothing hysterical, just a little more ah-ah-ah-ing than usual. But when I come home to your smiling food covered face, ahhhhh, it's lovely, and daddy hands you over then retires to "sit for a minute" on the couch. Within minutes I hear the snoring.

I used to think people must be relieved to get away from their kids for a bit. That sounds harsher than it's meant, but you'll know what I mean one day. However, I am surprised to find that I require very little 'me' time now. I love doing things with you and the day passes with pleasing rounds of feeding, drinking, nappy changing, playing and napping. Though I must stop putting you in five different outfits before settling on the final one...

This weekend we're taking you to see Santa in his grotty, sorry, grotto. My idea of hell.

Signing off, 13h57. And it's snowing.

Four years, nine months, 13 days since trying to become a mum and three months 17 days since becoming one

Today you were a delight. Today there were no challenges, just pleasure. Well done lovely Louse.

Four years, nine months, 12 days since trying to become a mum and three months 16 days since becoming one

Dear Louse

You're napping again. I could see you needed it hours ago, but you fought a good battle.

No-one told me how angry you can get as a parent. Well, let me rephrase that: I was unprepared for how angry I could get as a parent. A while back I found that during meal times, when you got bored or full and started chucking food around, something snapped in me, I found it very hard to tolerate such, as I saw it, insolent, behaviour. It happened several times and each time I felt a sudden rush of rage inside; how could you throw my lovingly prepared food around, you might as well hate me...

Quite extreme right?

It was the time I banged my fist on the table in anger that I finally thought, wait a minute, I'm the grown up here, I'm the one that needs to think about this and temper (ha ha) my reaction.

So, I spoke to the person I speak to these things about and she suggested I might think about my own relationship with food and mealtimes. She rightfully pointed out this was nothing to do with your behaviour, but more to do with whatever was being triggered in me. So I thought and it became very obvious what was going on with me. Family mealtimes (with half of family, my dad's side that we saw during holidays) were very important. The grandmothers would spend all morning preparing lunch and all afternoon preparing dinner. Not being there, not sitting up straight with hands on the table (not elbows) and not eating everything that served to you, was not an option. The step mother was quite scary. I loved these family meals, but they were also a challenge.

I think that you throwing food around once you'd had enough, vexed me almost, as I would never have been allowed to do that and would never have had the balls to cross the line in any way. I wanted to please.

Since I realised this and made these connections, it has been much much easier to let your food throwing pass without incident. I simply remove all food and we agree "all done". It still winds me up cos it's a waste, but I'm not taking it personally and I don't hold you responsible. Though it must be said Little Louse, that you are v strong willed already...

Four years, nine months, 11 days since trying to become a mum and three months 15 days since becoming one

Dear Louse,

I'm starting when the story has already begun. We have been a family for precisely three months and 15 days, a day which I will remember clearly til I pop my clogs.

I've been talking to someone about you and what it means to me to be a mother, and they said I should write about it. Not about the "which nappies should I buy" and "quite how often is it ok to administer Calpol" bits, but about what becoming a mother (finally) has done for me.

So far, it has been simultaneously glorious and quotidian. Your needs are so immediate and powerful that during the day I don't have time to ponder how amazing it is and how happy you've made me; it's only once you are face down, bum up in your cot that I realise I am a mum.

Although this is not about our journey to get to you, it would be wrong not to mention it in passing. The title refers to it, how long it took us to become parents.

But now you have woken up from your nap so I will stop. I will stop everytime you wake up when I'm writing, it'll be kind of like a real time record of your naps.

Signing off, Friday 11 December 2009, 11.24am