I saw you when you were too small to be seen.
A bundle of cells, a dot on the screen.
I couldn’t love you yet – I’m sorry – my hard parts wouldn’t allow.  But I wanted to so much – I wanted you now.
From bright lights and lab coats to your soft, squishy home, the start of your journey – ‘good luck little one’.
Then time to wait for a million years, a million doubts, a million tears…
Alone in the dark, my hands on my tum. Please stay, please stay, I want to be your mum.

One line or two, what will it be? Too casual, like ‘do you take sugar in your tea?’   Then there it was.  X marks the spot…you’d stayed, you’d stayed, my little dot.

I just couldn’t believe that you weren’t just a dream, a story I’d told, a trick – played on me. Then you, whisper of a child, with a flutter of wings – you spoke to my heart and tried to convince.

But those times you didn’t wriggle, I said my goodbyes.  Planned for new hard parts, I’d build walls so high.  Black and white screens declared you were fine, you would soon be here, you were real, you were mine.  In white rooms I gave up my armour and walls and accepted I wasn’t so hard after all.

As we became two you screamed loud as me.  I’m not just your wish Mummy, I’m here – I’m me!
Wriggling little life – is this really real? We cried and the last hard part inside of me died.