My daughter is perfect

 { My daughter is perfect }


My daughter is perfect. She represents everything that is right in this world. Not only did she capture our hearts and those who have met her, but she inspired a city, even if for just one day.  For one glorious day she was the story of hope, a beacon of light on the front of a newspaper that has become known for glaringly depressing front page headline news which revolve around rife gangsterism, local government corruption, our ‘esteemed’ corrupt president or his buddies the Guptas.  For one glorious day the city celebrated a story of hope and inspiration.

She is perfect in every detail, from the Angel kiss on her forehead and eye-lid to the Storks bite on the back of her neck. Every single finger and toe, her little tongue that refuses to stay put and even those little grunts she makes when she is fast asleep.


From the very moment that she was created she has proven herself to be a warrior and a survivor.  She beat all the odds stacked against her, proving her self worth every step of the way, breaking through every barrier that was placed in her path.  It is this strong will that I will admit has broken me on many occasions since she has come home to us.  She is headstrong and determined and unwilling to compromise for anyone or anything.  I can only imagine what a strong willed woman she will become one day.  She is able to drive me completely to the brink of insanity and with one beautiful gaze into my eyes and a cheeky smile (that I’m sure are still fart smiles) she’ll shatter my heart into a million pieces and I’ll once again become one of those annoying moms who firmly believe that THEIR child is the most perfect one in the world, but of course we all know they are wrong, because clearly my daughter IS the most perfect 😉

From the moment we saw that perfect heartbeat on the monitor I was a changed person.  We had no idea of what lay ahead, we naively expected a picture perfect pregnancy, birth and home stay which involved those happy, sleepy babies that you hear about.  The reality as you all know was very, scarily different and the journey was not made any easier when she came home, it merely became the next chapter in her story.


Simply because we were blessed enough to bring home a pint size healthy child did not mean that we were immediately thrust into ‘normal’ parenting.  She is and will for quite some time, be a special needs baby, something that I cannot explain easily to friends.  We do what most parents will do for their babies, she needs to be warm, dry, clean, fed, happy and secure.  Where most newborns are quite content to rest comfortably in their own cot, Charlotte does not. She falls asleep in our arms or on our chests, some days we can put her down in a cot, most days not.  I wear Charlotte, like an item of clothing, she is on any given day wrapped up securely on my chest as this is where she is most comfortable and secure. Some may call this spoiling her, and to that I say…, well, let’s just say I’d probably have to eat soap to cleanse my mouth after I’ve told you what I think about spoiling my child.  Adjusting from NICU to home life was incredibly stressful and it’s taken time for her to settle into this new environment.  She also suffers from a few ailments which are common amongst preemies, such as constipation, imagine being unable to poop on your own, I’d imagine this to be incredibly uncomfortable.  Because her system is still underdeveloped and trying to catch up to her peers she suffers from things like cramps, winds and the mother of all horrific pain and discomfort sources:  reflux, the signs of which are not always visible.  This can keep her awake and screaming in pain for minutes, or hours, on a daily basis. Until her medication assists in alleviating this we are on hand to soothe and comfort her, a bout of reflux is unpredictable in when it’ll appear, how long it will last, or how intense the episode will be, it makes planning your day impossible and it makes for a very unhappy little baba.  While most parents will quite easily plonk baba into the car seat and go on their merry little ways, Charlotte can endure her seat for very, very short durations, all those straps and paddings place unnecessary pressure on her already sensitive stomach contributing to more cramps and reflux, so guaranteed if we’ve left home with a happy and relaxed baba, by the time we get to our destination we’ll have a very eina little girl on our hands.


Charlotte gets vitamins and minerals daily, she is weighed at least once a week, every ounce of milk entering, and on occasion exiting her mouth, is added and noted.  She needs to gain steadily and remain healthy. In order to remain healthy we have a strict no germ policy. I’m utterly paranoid about germs and at any given point you will find at least 2 hand sanitizers in my handbag. You’ll barely have had a chance to greet me in our home before I’ll escort you to the bathroom where I expect you to scrub your hands like a neuro surgeon on his way to theatre.  I’ll also interrogate you about where your clothes have been before you showed up at my house, I’m not going allow clothes that have been in public spaces where germs are aplenty. I’m that neurotic and I can guarantee that if you even look like you have a sneeze on board that I will haul your ass out of my house so fast that you won’t know it happened until you find yourself sitting on the kerb. I have a special little sign that I wear or place on her car seat when we are forced to take her to public spaces.  It politely asks that you and your big ass germs stay the hell away from her as she is too little to handle them.  Most read the sign, acknowledge that the risk outweighs their curiosity about what the tiny hidden bundle looks like, smile understandingly and move on with their day. There are others though who actively read the sign and see it as a challenge to get their hands into my personal space and rip open the wrap to see and touch her before I can stop them, let me tell you, The Flash couldn’t be faster in reaction than what I am. I will and I have bitch slapped hands away, I will bury bodies if that is what it takes to protect my daughter from selfish actions.


My daughter is perfect and I will do everything in my power to keep her safe and if for the time being that means that I’m something of a hermit hiding in our home or bitch slapping your hand in public then so be it.  After all, you can’t mess with perfection!


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