Mummy’s been a bit lackadaisical on here, so I thought I’d write you a blog post, because – as if you didn’t know already – you’ve had another birthday. Hope you don’t mind me sharing this with everyone (bit tough if you do though).
So, how did you get to nine?
Now, I’m probably going to sound like a broken record here, but WHERE did all that time go?
It feels like only yesterday when we were here…
…and then here…
…oh, and here…
And we’re here…
…in the blink of an eye!
But every single day (on your special day it was 3287 to be precise) I’ve never taken for granted that you’re here.
And those 78,888 hours (or thereabouts) have been filled with lots of different emotions and experiences. Many of which I’ve learned a great deal from.
Hannah, I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again…you, my precious one, have been THE greatest teacher of life I could have ever wished for.
And you unwittingly taught me ALL about unconditional love.
So, thank you my darling!
A while back, I was asked about all your medical stuff and then (refreshingly) was asked to describe YOU…Hannah…not the syndrome, not the autism, not any of the other stuff…YOU.
Where could I start?
How could I possibly sum you up in just a few sentences?
The thing is, I couldn’t. I can’t. Because you have so many glorious layers. But for the old memory bank and for the purposes of this post, I thought I’d try and give a tiny pen picture of the YOU right now.
Okay, let’s go…
You’ve blossomed this year – proving some of your harshest critics wrong again…that’s my girl. Keep going kiddo!
Despite still being tiny, you still make your presence known.
You’re so inquisitive and feisty and tenacious and still have that remarkable zest for life. Nothing stops you! And you see life as one great big adventure. How wonderful.
…although you still scare me with your antics!
You’re funny, SO funny.
You’ve started to demonstrate through your play that you DO have an imagination…although I never doubted that.
You’ve worked hard this past year too – wearing your splints was so traumatic.
Now, you’ll (mostly) tolerate them (you’ve mastered how to get them off too). Well done you!
And now you’re a water baby – initially frightened to get in the school pool, you managed to get across the whole length. Go you!
You give more eye contact. You’re signing a little more and I love that you can sign ‘daddy’ and, on the very rare occasion you sign ‘mummy’, you call me ‘raisin’ instead.
I’m more than happy to be your raisin!
Hannah, you could teach a lot of people many important things, if only they got to know you. You’re accepting of everyone regardless of their differences – you don’t discriminate. You’re not greedy or demanding of anything…you’re perfectly content with what you get. And the things you really need can’t be bought. You’re not cruel to others. Life is for living – it doesn’t matter if you’re messy, if you eat with your hands, whether your hair is perfect or if you just want five minutes with your frock over your head.
You don’t aspire to be anyone else but you…and that’s just how it should be, because YOU are perfect just the way you are.
…and those pitying stares we get…well, we don’t need pity, do we? I think there are plenty other people without disabilities who need it far more than us!
Well kiddo, I’d better wrap this up (apparently, in blogging land, you get sniffed at for writing too much…me? bothered? nah, not in the slightest! we do our own thing, don’t we.).
Hannah, you are loved. SO loved.
Keep on shining.
Happy, happy, happy birthday little mouse!
I hope you enjoyed your day.
“And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you” (Kiersten White; The Chaos of Stars)