Sunday, 21 October 2007
Yesterday was Beautiful Baby Daughters 11th birthday. As I held her in my arms for the first time I loved her so intently and with a tiny tinge of sadness, knowing that she was the last baby I would ever have.
She has grown into the most complex of my children, a creature of extremes - at times as wild as the heather mixed with the most gentle and tender of hearts. Sometimes seemingly so grown up but remaining as much of a baby as she ever was. I feel she is the most like me, both physically and emotionally. I see all my faults glaring back at me and this can make for fireworks between us but it in no way diminishes the deep and profound love I have for her.
She is incredibly enthusiastic about things and has the biggest heart. She is always telling people how much she loves them and will often write little love letters to us or give us certificates praising us for our good points. Her generosity of spirit is fabulous. She is definitely the most creative of us all and life with her in it is never boring.
I still sneak in and look at her when she is sleeping and as I see the glorious mop of titian curls slightly damp from the bath covering the still babyish curve of her cheek and the thumb remaining very firmly in her mouth, I can still see the baby in the cot.
I love her so very much and she is still now, and always will be, her mummys darling baby girl, and my heart, mo chridhe