Seven

"I am not a Princess any more. I am a Queen"
"Do you think I might maybe have some presents when it is actually my Birthday really?"
"How lucky am I, to go to school on my Birthday?"
"What? Really for me? I can really have my own little cars?"
"Will anyone sing to me and call me the Birthday Girl?"
"I need my big sister to come to my party too"
"Ice skating is amazing but it is a ploblem that it is very slippery."

Seven years ago, you were a bit of a surprise to parents who had been looking forwards to meeting you, and to the doctors who had the privilege of catching you. Seven years ago, the predictions for your survival were pretty grim. You had an impressive collection of life threatening and life limiting conditions, you had something some of the doctors had never seen before, you had something incompatible with life, and a good collection of complications just to keep things really really interesting.

And you proved everybody very wrong, and you decided life was going to be exciting and adventurous. And those doctors who made such grim predictions followed your lead and worked hard to give you a good life. And they still follow your lead now, and work towards your independence. You probably don't realise they are being lead by you; I know you would choose not to have surgery. But they are listening to the things you say you want, and the surgeries and other treatments are all important in giving you that freedom.

We didn't meet until after your first Birthday; precious photos show you and your foster-brothers enjoying a caterpillar cake and riding around on your toy truck. Your little cousins enjoy that truck when they visit Grannie and Grandad's house now; it may not have special significance for anyone else, but I love having that link with your past.

And now you are seven. It's all one school now, but you will be moving from what was Infants into Juniors, and I wonder where my baby went? You like cars and jigsaw puzzles, crafts and drawing and Harry and his Bucket Full of Dinosaurs. You enjoy going to the cinema and love to share a Chinese takeaway with me, and don't see why we can't have a Curry the following night too. Your hair is long, and you have your own ideas about styling it. You have your own taste in music and like to make up dances. You direct those bits of your care you can't manage for yourself, and you decide for yourself which bits of care that might be.

You are a daughter, a sister, a grand-daughter, a niece, a cousin, great-granddaughter, great-niece. And you are loved, welcomed, accepted and celebrated in our family and beyond.

Happy Birthday my beautiful and precious little great big girl.
Love,
Mummy.