Eight months and three days since becoming a mum

In the last week, you have become somewhat obsessed by belly buttons (is that two words or one??). You push your tummy out the way to check your own out and you make me lift my clothing in order to see mine, and to poke your finger at it. You also checked out Pa's and had a good rifle around that. I don't know why this is particularly fascinating, but it's certainly got your attention. And it got me to thinking about explaining what functions belly buttons have, why they're there in the first place. I started to say to you – mummy's belly button was made when she was a baby in her mummy's tummy and yours was made when... and I kind of drifted...

A part of me knows that one day, sooner rather than later, I will have to start divulging information about your coming into being, which may or may not shatter your little world. And that same part of me is strangely keen to make the first move sooner rather than later, however I stopped myself because actually it wouldn't mean much to you just yet and I want to enjoy the time before the questions start. I think on my part the urge to start telling you is because I know it's coming anyway and it's like that urge to throw yourself off a balcony if you are looking out over one at a fair height. Actually I don't want to have to tell you what I will have to tell you, I wish it weren't so, but it is and so I must squash that urge and let things be until you ask the questions that will lead to it. This process must be steered by you, at your own pace.

And as I've said before, we probably now have 1-2 years to enjoy being a family without any backstory, to build our bonds, or rather, continue to build our bonds for they are already pretty sturdy I think. In the same way that I am no longer mentioning adoption to people we meet when introducing you, I must resist the urge to spew any information before it is required or wanted.

May 18th.

That's the date. The date that we officially become a family, the date your name changes and the date we are no longer answerable to anyone anymore. We will go to court, we will stand before a judge, she/he will make their declaration and probably stamp something, we will take photos, we will all smile and I will probably weep big gulping sobs but pretend not to be and nearly choke trying to contain them.

Eight months today since becoming a mum

Wow, eight months today since we became a family. And how better to mark that than with a family holiday. We just returned from a week in Devon, in a shack on the beach at a place I hope you will become very familiar with. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful in every single way.

Day one on arrival, instant de-stressing for Pa and me, and you were delighted at the massive playground we had arrived at. The sky was blue and the sun was shining, the water was pretty still and the view from our shack was a perfect composition of shingle, sea and sky. Worth noting that this also happened to be the week that European airports ground to a halt due to a volcanic eruption in Iceland and the subsequent ash cloud traveling in the skies. So not only was the sky bluer than blue, but there were no vapour trails and no distant hum of airplanes flying by. Amazing.

Our first few days was just you, Pa and me, which was lovely. I think you reveled in the fact that we were all together and there seemed to be nothing to do but play, eat and sleep. Think the sea air knocked you out cos you were having epic naps and deep deep nighttime sleeps. Even when your little pal F arrived after the weekend with his mum, his crying didn't disturb you.

Interesting developments this week on your part: new words – sea, sky, beach, boat, bird and ice-cream; learning to play with, rather than alongside, F; and realising that if we thought you had fallen, you would get attention and sympathy... I actually caught you just lying on the ground, looking to see who'd noticed, then fake cry. Hysterical.

I think it has been very good for us to go away on this holiday, very bonding. We had a small bump to reality when V, our social worker, called mid week to check how our finances are for her final report; honest answer: *ucked! Quite a shocking moment to be reminded that we are STILL in the process of adopting you and that, theoretically anyway, you could still be taken away by the powers that be. At this stage, and on this holiday, that jolted me. I thought, I wonder what would happen if I answered really truthfully, what would they do, take you away having spent the last two years telling us you don't have to be rich to adopt?? Anyway, I fluffed and answered and reassured that all was ok, which it is I suppose, albeit by skin of teeth. Not much longer now til last hurdle, court hearing this week that we do not attend and then the final one that we do go to should be in about six weeks. I think that will bring a level of relief I can only imagine at the moment, I suspect I will breathe freely as though I had held my breath for several minutes.

So holiday – fantastic to spend all day outdoors with you, toddling around, rearranging stones, kicking a ball, climbing in and out the shack, going up and down the shingle, paddling, and eating ice-creams. And most of all, fantastic to have all that time with you, with no work or dull chores to get in the way. You definitely thrived on it, I definitely did. I think you would claw someone's face off if they tried to remove you from us now. You have become yet more attached and have demonstrated this in ways that move me really – when wandering around pub garden while we lunched, you chatted to strangers as usual, but this time took me with you, made me carry you and rested your head on my shoulder coyly (not like you at all!) as they chatted to you. Funny bean that you are.

Finally, you now say hello. Well, you actually say – huwo, like Elmer Fudd. And I knicknamed you and F, Walter and Irma cos you were acting like a little old couple.

7.5 months since becoming a mum and discovering how much worrying you can really do

Louse,

It's 3.30am and I've been awake for half an hour listening to your horrible cough; I think it's a croup type cough. I've patted your back and given you more Ibuprofen which will hopefully send you back to sleep, not that you're fully awake, but hacking like that it's hard for you not to be disturbed.

Argh! I want it to stop, I cannot tell you how distressing it is listening to you and not knowing what to do. The only help I can find online is sitting in a steamy bathroom, which now that I think about it I'm sure I remember Auntie S saying she had to do with one of her brood. Before bed you had a coughing fit that ended up with you being sick, you retched so much. But bless you, you're still cheery and ready to play. Meanwhile, my nerves are jangled...

A lifetime since trying to become a mum and 7.5 months since becoming one

Excuse my silence, I was away on a work trip to Denmark last week. Our first overnight separation from eachother. More than overnight in fact, three nights and four days; it was long.

I left early in the morning and woke you up to say goodbye. I had been telling you for a few days that I would be away, that Grandma was going to come and stay, but I don't think you understood. I wanted to say bye, not just not be there in the morning then be absent for several days, but you were all asleep and confused poor soul so I didn't linger, just said bye quickly. You cried on my shoulder. Pa rang me an hour or so later to say you were ok.

From what Pa says, the first day and night were fine. It's not the first time I have left in the morning and not returned til after your bedtime. But during the second and subsequent days, it all went a bit awry. You seemed confused and upset. Apparently you were sort of ok during the day, but a little unsettled and not eating much. Then at night, hard to settle and waking frequently; something you rarely do normally.

It was hard knowing all this while I was away and retrospectively, four days was possibly a bit long to start with. Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. In the long term, I don't suppose it will scar you in any way. You ran Pa and Grandma ragged, they both looked drained when I Skyped them! Lightweights. And you were unusually silent, just looking at the computer me. I managed to coax you into a little playing with random mad sounding singing or word play, but mainly you just looked a bit sad to be honest.

I have to admit, I had a great time in Denmark. It's a lovely country and we went to different cities, met interesting people, had a laugh. I didn't get plastered and make the most of being away in that way; it just didn't happen and we couldn't be bothered actively looking for nights out. It meant that we were clear headed for work and able to enjoy a day of sight seeing on the last day. I don't feel guilty about going or about having a good time. But I did miss you terribly. Every time I saw a little girl, I would get a massive pang and want to show them photos of you, talk about you, tell them stories about what you like and don't like. So come the last day and the journey home, I was super excited and most anxious to just be home. Pa kept you awake, you hadn't really gone to sleep anyway, and you truly lit up when you saw me. You gabbled like you were telling me four days worth of stories, it was very cute. Your pointy arm was waving around like a... twirling pointy thing. And I managed to get you to bed and sleep pretty quickly. I enjoyed the cuddle and loved your chattering. It's nice to feel wanted.

You're now back to falling asleep pretty quickly though a horrid cough is waking you sporadically. It knots my stomach listening to that cough by the way, you just hack and hack, sometimes retching with the effort. But you seem to have recovered fast and you can see that normal service has been resumed.

We're off on our first proper holiday this Friday, to Devon, to a wooden chalet on the beach. Can't wait.