#140 The Very First Christmas

So, here we are Lottie.  Sitting, at the end of this year, looking out to the rest of our lives.  Phewf.  That feels pretty huge, and exciting, and terrifying, doesn’t it?  So, here I must leave you.  One year’s worth of life advice from me to you.  It’s been as much for a journey for me, as i imagine it has for you.  You’ve learnt great wonderful things this year, and my have you grown!  Just yesterday we took a little walk together around the theatre – you can’t quite do it on your own yet, but you almost can.  In other news you’ve been holding on to an orange spoon for two days.  You won’t put it down.  I commend your determination, it’s good to stick to your guns over things.

Now, now, now – how to end a blog?  (And I can’t guarantee this is the end.  I’ve grown very fond of this space on the world wide web.  it’s where I’ve come over the past year to report my great life discoveries.  But for now, at least, it’s the end.)

I suppose we could go back to the very beginning, I was younger then, knew less, didn’t think about stuff as much, as thoroughly. This time last year I was 27 and you were about nine hours old, let’s revisit that very first Christmas.

23rd December 2013

It’s early in the morning, the usually manic activity preceding Christmas is taking place.  Running in to Marks to buy flowers for people.  Frantic PVA gluing my Christmas cards.  Making a dress for the Moira Stewart puppet I’m making for Uncle Simon.  You know what it’s like.  A text arrives.

Um, I don’t think I’m going to be there tomorrow after all.’  – A message from your ma.  We go to the theatre on Christmas eve you see, to watch the 11am show.  Excitement.  This can only mean one thing.  You are on the way.  At last, it feels like we’ve been waiting forever to meet you.

Are you in labour?’ (Just to be sure.)

Yes, something weird has been happening to me about every ten minutes since about 5am this morning.” YESSSSS!!!  You’re going to be here really soon.  For the rest of the 23rd I checked my phone every three minutes and sent copious irritating texts to your mum. The day rolled over, I went to bed, and still no you.

24th December 2013

Christmas eve morning.  Word has travelled like wild fire across Warwick.  Lottie is on the way.

She’ll definitely be born on Christmas eve.

No, I think she’ll be a Christmas day baby.

Perhaps she’ll be born before the show’s over and we can announce it at the end.

She’s got to come soon.  It’s been more than 24 hours.

Any word from Emilie? 

No, nothing.

And so it continued.  We all drank too much wine in the pub, and awaited your arrival.  Nothing.  I went to bed on Christmas eve. You had to be here soon. I drifted off.

25th December 2013 – 3am

I’m woken up by my phone ringing, I see it’s your mum.

Hello?

She’s here.  She’s here.

I whoop and cheer and then…I’m speechless.  What do you say to someone who has literally just had a baby?

How are you feeling?

As it happened, your mum was quite high on the drugs, so (although I don’t know exactly how she was feeling) she sounded jubilant, joyful,  a bit squiffy, but most importantly over the moon that you had arrived.  A Christmas day miracle – because of course, we are all miracles.

Two days later I met you for the first time.  I had never held a person so tiny before, you were magical, and beautiful and perfect in every way.  What a wonderful Christmas gift to us all.  And in your house, Christmas is no longer Christmas – it’s your birthday.  We can do Christmas things on our special Christmas eve – see you there: half ten, at Playbox Theatre, every 24th of December, without fail.  And I look forward to celebrating many, many Christmas eves with you in years yet to come.

One year on from that very first Christmas, and although I’m leaving the blog, I’m looking forward to the many marvelous adventures that lay ahead of us . There’s baking to do, and games to play, things to learn, adventures to go on, places to get muddy, dens to build, things to glitter, puppets to make, chats to have, dinners to share, rivers to paddle in, stars to wish on, songs to sing, stories to tell, jumps to jump and hops to hop, hands to hold, dandelions to blow, fairies to find, plays to watch and one day, when we’re feeling especially brave, your mama and I will take you to the cave of Fenrir to see the Dragon.

But for now, Happy Birthday Lottie.  Have a wonderful day.

Love always,

Auntie Spudge.

Over and Out.

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