November 08, 2005
I can't tell you how happy I am that we have together reached this point. It seems astonishing to me that it's been six months since that long, long night at Frances Perry. You've changed so much, and stayed exactly the same, since you were born.
I remember with exact clarity the first moment I saw you, and the moments immediately after, when they handed you to me and told me to go and sit down. We spent that first 20 minutes together, just staring into each other's eyes, and I thought my heart would burst with pride and joy. I know intellectually that you couldn't even see me then, but emotionally I feel that time was the beginning of a relationship that will last the rest of my life.
The intervening period of time has been characterised in my mind by going to work, leaving you in the hands of your wonderful mother, and coming home again to see you changed in some infinitesimal way. Your advances over this time are too many to mention, but the sheer mindboggling idea that you recognise me and think I'm funny is still the thing that gets me going.
Watching you play with Mr Frog and roll around on the floor is something that I couldn't have fathomed three months ago. Seeing you come to grips with your environment, to the point of now wanting things that you can't see, makes my brain do somersaults. Of course, you still can't have the remote control.
To think that six months have passed since you were born, to imagine that you have been in our lives for half a year, is proving difficult to come to grips with. I know that this summer will be fun for us, there's a lot of things I want to show you, there's a lot of people you still need to meet. There's celebrations to be had, presents to open (and of course wrapping paper to play with and eat).
So happy half birthday, Bramble. Here's to your first six months in this world, and to the next sixty years that we'll spend together.
I love you.