Three years ago at 3:03pm our daughter was born. She changed our world and made us into stronger and better people. She made us more emotional than we ever thought possible and we have been explicitly exhausted since the moment she was put in our arms and we smelt her sweet baby skin. From that second, as the clock ticked our way into parenthood for the first time, everything we did, everything we planned was for her. For her happiness, for her future. We strengthened our marriage, we grew roots in our new home and planned for the future. She is the centre of our universe. Like the Sun and Moon we revolve and live purely for her. Today, there is no Sunday Sit Down, todays post is a dedication to my baby girl who is no longer a baby, no longer a toddler, she has graduated to child. Happy Birthday Goose.
I’m 33 today! Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me. Until I became a mum, birthdays were the bees knees. I would count down to my birthday and always have something planned. I would do my level best to take the day off work and if I was lucky, head out somewhere for breakfast. But since becoming a mum birthdays have changed for me. They are no longer as important as they used to be. In saying that though, there are two birthdays that stand out to me. Two birthdays I hold all other birthday days against and compare them too.