The 364th day of joy

Tomorrow is Maisie Mouse's first birthday.

Today, she woke as usual at 6:30am and came into our bed for a feed and a snuggle, a holiday luxury I shall miss terribly when the school rush begins in a few weeks. We slept that way for about an hour, until I was woken by the sound of soft little hands clapping, and a baby song consisting entirely of the word 'Dad'. She was nestled in the crook of my arm, tucked in the length of my torso, and she was simultaneously so big, and still such a little baby. When she realised I was awake too, I was rewarded with a toothy smile and a honk on the nose. She hadn't tried to wriggle away, but seemed to be enjoying the cuddle and quiet time with Mummy as much as I was.

Tomorrow, we will celebrate our littlest girl's first year with hugs, kisses, presents and preparations for her small party on Saturday. I have no doubt she will revel in the attention.

Today, we have been on a family walk...eaten a quiet lunch...and now my sweetheart is having a long, relaxed, quiet sleep. Our little mouse has dragged herself all over the house this morning, chasing her brother and sister, determined not to be left out of anything! This afternoon we are off to the playground at the park to meet Narnie (my mum). I know that Miss Mouse, sitting high in her Baby Bjorn, will flap and jiggle and shriek with joy at the wind, and the sun, and the kids. And I will enjoy the sensation of her warm, heavy little body held so close to mine.

Tomorrow, I will undoubtedly be inundated with memories of her first day. Maisie spent her first 24 hours in the special care nursery. I did not get to enjoy any snuggles with my darling girl until the nurses brought her in for a feed...and then took her away again. We named her after Christian took pictures of her on his mobile, so I could see her face and decide on the name she would keep for the rest of her life. On the second day, I hobbled down to the nursery with a jar of expressed milk, dragging my drip behind me. When I reached the nursery, I burst into tears because I couldn't even find my own baby. After being scolded by the midwives for getting out of bed at all, let alone walking a significant distance, I was allowed to take my precious bundle back to the ward with me. Since then, she has rarely been out of my sight (clingy mother? yes indeedy. is there a support group for that? I don't really care!!)

Today, I can still say that she is 11 months old, which sounds little. I can pretend that she is not on the verge of becoming a toddler; that she is not desperate to walk and run on her own; that the ability to lie quietly in bed without her trying to escape will continue for a while longer! This morning, she was sitting on the floor playing with some of Phoebe's dress-up jewellery. I crawled over to her to gently retrieve them, and instead of clutching them tightly, she dropped the bling, threw her arms open wide and wrapped them around my neck. Even now my heart aches and my eyes prick with tears at the thought of my little mouse giving me such a big hug, all of her own volition. It was a golden moment of babyhood, let me tell you! I hugged her back, and murmured, "I love you Maisie-Mais". She looked at me solemnly, uttered, "Dad-dad-dad-dad" and hugged me again. I'll still take it!

Tomorrow, my youngest child and my last baby will be one year old. It will be twelve months since the first time I saw her sticky-uppy hair, her sweet little face, and her long, long eyelashes. It will be twelve months since Jack and Phoebe cuddled their baby sister for the first time, holding her gently and looking at her tiny features with awe. It will be twelve months since our family became complete. She has, without a doubt, made our family feel like a happy whole.

Today, I am relishing the fact that instead of crawling properly, Maisie sticks stubbornly to her strange commando-all-arms-and-knees-and-feet dragging all over the house (but my goodness, she's fast now!!). Today, I loved the fact that she allowed me to spoon-feed her at lunchtime while her eyelids got heavier, and heavier. Today, I enjoyed every second of our walk, with Mais in the pram calling out to the kids and Daisy, wriggling her legs and waving her hands. Today, I made the most of carrying her into her cot, putting on the Winnie-the-Pooh mobile, and tucking her in with her dolly, knowing that within minutes she would be splayed on her tummy, breath deep and even, eyelids gently closed.

Tomorrow, our house will be a hive of activity, preparing birthday cakes and other party food; hanging balloons (if we can keep them out of her screaming reach!); and generally enjoying the day with our birthday girl. We will be celebrating the fact that Maisie is healthy and happy; that she is growing stronger every day; that she will soon be running and jumping with the big kids; that she has a life ahead of her in which anything is possible. For the most part, I am enjoying having kids old enough to start doing things like swimming, camping and going places without a portacot. I am excited about our three children being old enough to do activities all together, and potentially having nights when everybody sleeps the whole way through! I will admit though, there is a teeny tiny part of me that is sad to see the 'little baby' years go...it is no secret I am a sucker for small babies, with their clenched fists, milk-drunk sleeping faces, and the smell of a newborn baby's head.

Today, I have a baby girl just shy of her first birthday, who still has a pot belly, closes her fists to sleep, tucks her face under my chin when she's tired, and lifts her arms up to me with a smile on her face. Today, I have a baby girl who is a joy to be around, who adores her siblings, and who is still little enough to sleep on her belly with her knees tucked in and her bottom stuck in the air. Today, I am grateful for the gift of this first year with Maisie. Tomorrow, a whole new gift begins.