coming home - february 8th, 2011

Daddy rung Mummy from home before coming to the hospital.
He was worried that the ward was a long way from the car 
and whether he should bring your pushchair so you would be safer.
He was worried that it was really cold out and that you might need an extra blanket.
He was worried.
He was a parent.

The day before seemed like a dream.
A dream in which we had been given a fragile and beautiful life to nurture and love.

And now we were a family.
And it was time to go home... together.

You looked so tiny in your car seat.
We weren't sure that we would be able to do the straps up tight enough on your delicate little frame so that you would be safe.
We had to wrap a rolled up muslin square around the inside of the head support because your head could still move around in it.

Mummy couldn't bear to be away from you for the length of time it took to get from Broomfield to Bocking, so she sat in the back of the car with you. And she stared, and stared, and stared at you.
Daddy drove home very slowly and very smoothly.

Nothing could quite compare to the equal feelings of excitement and terror that we felt on that journey. 

The responsibility of looking after you seemed so scary.
How would we know what you needed?
How would we ever keep safe from all the scary things in the world?
Would we be any good at being your parents?

But we were so excited to be your Mummy and Daddy. 
To care for you.
To get to know you.
To watch you grow. 
To love you.

No comments

Back to Top