A Letter To Remember (Part 1)

To my 7 months old daughter.

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Dear Rebecca,

Today you slept for the second night on the cot by yourself. I am so happy of the confident and gorgeous baby you have become... how fast you are growing: healthy and always smiling thanks to God. You slept and the "pick up toys" time for me started. I first folded your bath towel, grabbed your last bottle of the day, rinsed it and left it ready to wash, then arranged your portacot in the right position, and then I fixed your walker's sit which eas upside down from when I took you out for your bath and remembered when you were there earlier with your red cheeks watching Mickey Mouse smiling everytime he showed up with his song from the ClubHouse... and then you giggled with this weird and cute high pitch sound that always melts my heart.

I then went to my own bedroom to get ready to go to bed and I saw your bassinet. It was there, empty and lonely... I remembered when you were only 57cm long and not even 4 kilos and you were this tiny human being tight up in double blankets and mittens to keep you warm as much as we could to protect you from the cold winter nights. Now it's there in the corner just in case one night you are struggling to sleep... or maybe it is just there because I am not ready to let it go.

That bassinet is a symbol of the first months of struggle. We (your father and I) rocked that bassinet hundreds of times to help you soothe so you could be able to sleep and rest. You grew there. You played there with your first soft toys... You smiled at us from there too!! Oh my God... that beautiful smile!!...

But you also cried there...

Because we couldn't rock you forever, specially when you were going to transition to your cot, we needed to teach you how to self soothe. So, we started to trained you to be a stronger and independent... so you cried as soon as I put you there... and you cried... 2 minutes passed and you were still crying... another 3 minutes and you were still crying... I broke and was about to go in there but your father stopped me, he was stronger than me -as usual-... he calmed me down and said that soon you would stop... and not even 1 more minute and you stopped... and you slept. You slept and I cried. It was an emotional moment. After that you started to sleep by yourself the same way half of the times... the other half you weren't able and we rocked you and sang to you...

And you were growing...

You were used to the routine: you played at night time, ate, had a very warm bath and go to the bassinet and we sang to you Houbuki Ya Mariam (Immaculate Mary) while we rocked you until you fell asleep. And one night you started singing too!... or it sounded like that. As soon as the routine was complete, you made this cute noise without even opening your mouth with the same musicality for almost 5 min until you fall asleep.

You are now 7 months old and you still do it. Everytime we sing the Ave Maria song, you know it's time to go to bed.

I still remember one of those days where I let you sleep by yourself and you were crying. I was near you by the door looking at you in a way where you couldn't see me but I could see you. You looked up for me, I saw you: you cried for 30 seconds with your eyes closed, then you opened them and looked above you to the places you know you always see our faces. But we weren't there and you cried again. Maybe you were calling me... you wanted to tell me something... maybe you were wondering: where are you mummy? I want your cuddle!... But you didn't know I was there, looking at you with my hand in my heart and a tear running from my eye to my cheek. I knew I had to do this for your future... for you to learn to be independent...

And then it hit me. I could picture myself as a baby crying to God and to Our Lady begging to come to rescue me. I loved them and they still didn't come when I wanted them to be here... and I felt helpless, alone... and I cried, I looked, I prayed and I cried again but nothing happened... Now I can picture Our Lady near me, even though I can't see her... she is trying to help me understand something... maybe I need to learn something from Her silence. Maybe She is telling me: "be patient, keep going, keep living, I have your back here on my side, you'll understand soon what your Father is doing for you."

I love you Rebecca. You just moved to the cot last night and you are sleeping peacefully in a big bed... now you look so tiny and cute again... but not for long. Live is short and you are growing very fast. And even though you can't see me all the time, and you cry because you think I'm not there I can assure you I'm watching over you...

See you at your 1:30am bottle feed.

Love,

Mum

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Written by Liza Abouharb on 18/09/2017