A love letter to my baby on his first birthday!

"It couldn't have been any other baby, any other way"      

@familybyde

I still have to pinch myself when I say... my little donor egg miracle is one!

Over the past year I've been lucky enough to speak to lots of people either thinking about donor IVF, embarking on it or pregnant/parenting thanks to donor conception. The main thing we have in common is the grief, fear and anxiety that comes with the territory before taking the plunge; like the enormity of this decision will weigh on us forever. Don't get me wrong, becoming a donor parent does have its down days (I'll cover that another time) but as I think about this special milestone in Baby's life, I wanted to revisit some of my experiences so that he knows exactly how joyful a time this was but also to think about those early fears in relation to the reality of our new life with our donor-conceived baby. I borrowed the opening quote from another wonderful DE IVF warrior - as it really sums up how I've felt about Baby since the day he was born. I really believe we were meant to be; it couldn't have been any other baby, any other way. So here is a love letter to my precious little one, as we celebrate his first birthday.

Darling boy,

The time has come to celebrate your birthday - to celebrate you, our little miracle, who has brought so much joy to us and everyone who knows you.

Not a day goes by when I don't thank my lucky stars that I'm your Mummy. Before you were even a tiny speck, you were so wanted - by me, and Daddy, and everyone in the family. We wanted you so much we grew afraid that you would never come. We saved up all our love, just for you. And then you arrived! You didn't have an easy journey into the world - I needed so much help to grow you - from Daddy and all our loved ones - but mostly from the incredible lady who gave me an extra special egg that became part of you. As soon as we saw your little spark of life, we knew you were meant to be. And so did you! You fought against the odds to be with us. As our emotions undulated between elation, despair, anxiety and fear, you were strong. You knew you belonged.

As you were growing in my tummy, I worried that we would be strangers. Whose face would I see when you were born? Who would you be? Would you want me as much as I wanted you? But I forgot one thing. You knew me and needed me even before you were born. And I knew and needed you. As I cradled you in my arms during those early weeks, I already knew every movement, every flutter, every twitch. I knew that as well as kicking your legs you liked to wave your bottom in the air. I knew that you always got hiccups in the evening. I knew that you liked to sleep with your legs crossed. We weren't strangers at all; I knew you, because I grew you.

And you knew me too. From the second you were born, you searched for me. You knew my smell and my voice. And, when you were a few weeks older, you gave me your very first smile. Like you'd saved it up, just for me. I had never felt joy like this before - I barely dreamt it could be possible.

During the first weeks of your life, I searched your face for features that I recognised. Yes, you are a carbon copy of your Daddy, but instead of seeing my face, I also saw features in you I knew I couldn't place. Before you came I feared this would affect our bond - but it didn't. As you turned two months (and I had started to get the hang of what I was doing) I looked again at your egg donor's photo. She was beautiful to me before - but she had become even more beautiful, because I saw your eyes in hers. I thought I would dread that moment; worried it would cloak me in grief. But it didn't. Because in that short time, I'd fallen in love with you so deeply, so profoundly, that I was shielded from the pain I'd feared. I have searched my soul and chosen to turn my back on the grief, for now at least, because you have brought light into my heart where there previously was none.

Your blue eyes are as bright as the bluest of skies. Mine are brown. But they don't gaze at you with sadness. Sometimes I grow weary when well-wishers ponder on 'where those blue eyes come from' - I can't even answer that puzzle - your donor's eyes are green and so are Daddy's! So I think to myself, 'those are just your eyes - the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen'.

You and I have spent every day together for over a year - not counting the nine months before. We've shared every moment, every milestone. I've cried when you've cried, I've laughed when you've laughed. 

You prefer being near me more than any other - sometimes so much so I that I think, if you could unzip me and climb back in, you would! When you gaze at me the world stops, just so I can absorb that moment in time. Your little hands spread joy with every touch. From day one we had the deepest attachment; we share something so much more than genetics; we share the bond that is unique to a mother and child. One created by instinct and trust. One created by the very purest of loves.

During these special months I've set aside many of the worries I once had. The worries that I would find life difficult as a donor-recipient. They haven't gone away - and I suspect that that these precious early years will be the easiest - as you know no different than the love of my bosom, my touch and my kisses. But I still worry - in fact I have a whole new set of worries! Like any mother, I worry about your health and happiness (mainly whether you're getting the right vitamins, or exposed to too much screen-time during lockdown) but I have another layer of worries too. I worry that one day you may find the choices Daddy and I made hard to understand, or find confusion when you seek stability. I worry that you will feel set apart or different from your friends. I worry that one day you might reject me as your mother because you crave a genetic connection to someone other than Daddy. But, unlike the fears I used to feel before you were here, these worries don't keep me up at night; they don't preoccupy my every moment. But I want you to know they are there - because I care about your future and how you will feel. And I want say to you now that, when the time comes, your reaction, no matter how hard it might be for me, is yours and yours alone, and we will respect and support you as you navigate your way through. All I can hope is that you continue to grow knowing how cherished you are. Loved because you are you. And I hope, just like that little embryo fighting against all odds, that you continue to forge your way in the world finding confidence in being our most beloved son and, more importantly, for being your very special self.

I'm so proud of you son. And I always will be. Because I believe that you are the boy I was meant to have and I'm the mother you were meant to have. (Not forgetting your dear Daddy, who derives more pleasure from being with you than he ever imagined possible).

Happy first birthday our sweet, sweet boy. Thank you for every second of your first year. May every birthday see us all grow even happier and stronger together.

All my love, Mummy x