And She is One

Anna 1Our Anna is one. One fast year later, and our little teeny baby is walking (and more often running) around, babbling the words she knows with a delighted grin; screeching, wrecking and wrapping us all around her gorgeous, chubby little finger.Anna4One year ago: these are the first photos I really saw of her after she was whipped away (I had complications) The following day I eventually got to hold her. I am so glad this is far behind me, these kind of anniversaries are really bitter sweet.Anna 2She loves dolls (much to Grace’s delight) and carries around various “baba”s throughout the day, depositing them in the pram and licking their faces. Oh, the life of a baba.

She also loves grass (pulling it up), chickens (the feeling is not mutual) and the trampoline.

Anna 3Daffodils have been falling foul of her this year, beheading is a daily pastime; our walks take forever as she likes to pick up every stick. She adores Pebbles and the beleaguered dog is demented with her: she calls “Pebbha!” and Pebbles runs up expectantly, and then she shouts at her “Go!”. Poor, confused hound. But Pebbles keeps coming back for more…

Her latest joy is watering flowers (thanks James) and carries her little red watering can around the garden. Her flower-watering tally? Flowers: 0; Anna’s legs: 437



She lies,
Cruciform-like on me;
Fluffy quiff wafting,
Every time I breathe out

I breathe in; feeling her weight
Rise on me: sweaty cheek resting
below my collarbone, small chest
pressed into the concave valley between
my breasts, soft belly pressing into
the slack basin of mine
Two sharp-nailed feet cleaving
into the lax skin of my thighs
As I breathe out

I breathe in, hearing her sighs,
Feel her start with memories
that pass over her eyelids;
Twelve months of memories
Since she left me; twelve months
since she lay on me: soft, sticky, blinking
Lying curled up in the space
between my flattened breasts,
As her chest rose and began
to breathe out
And to breathe in