Memory

Blink.

The sun plays an insistent beat on my eyelids.

Blink | beat.

You jump on my chest and giggle as the breath comes out of me in a giant "whoosh"

"Wake up Mummy"

I smile and turn over on my side, twisting you around so that we are nose-to-nose, foreheads touching and your toes tickle my tummy as you try to curl up in the space where the roundness of the bump that used to contain you still refuses to budge.

You stroke the hairs on my arm, flash me a huge, sunny smile and say "I'm softing you" and my heart bursts.

We have finally bonded. It is only now that I realise we hadn't before.

To my children.

You are beautiful and intelligent and funny. You brighten my days and make me want to be a better person.

You are not perfect (who is?) but you can break my heart with a smile as much as with angry words and hurtful actions.

You are magical and wonderful and terrible and I love you so much.

If I ever made you feel small, I am sorry. I have been made to feel that way and I know how much it hurts.

If I ever made you feel stupid, I didn't mean to. Sometimes my impatience with my own inadequacies makes me harsh with you when I see you making the same mistakes as I have, over and over again.

I cannot promise that I will always be there. I cannot promise that I will not make mistakes. I cannot promise that I will never hurt you with my words or actions. I cannot promise that I will always understand.

I do promise you that I will try my very best not to hurt you. I promise that I will always admit to you when I've got something wrong and that I will apologise. I promise to do my best to give you the tools you need to be happy, healthy and productive.

I promise I will love you always, no matter what.