A Letter to My Little Clubfooter

Barney.

My blue eyed, beautiful boy. You came into our lives and changed us forever. Our wonderful gang of 3 became an incredible family of 4 and you exploded my heart beyond anything I could have expected.

I had my worries, like any new mum; Do I have enough love for 2? Will I be enough for you? Will your big sister cope? Will I cope? But you carried on growing regardless and, of course, I expanded as my fears started to slip away whilst excitement and love grew as quick as you were growing. Feeling your first kicks, those little butterfly kicks, made my heart melt as I promised to keep you safe. Just me and you.

I had dreams for you before you were even born, you know. No pressure. I don't really care if you're a brain surgeon or a bin man, not really. I dreamt of you succeeding to be just you; the very best version of yourself. Happy, content, proud and passionate. My boy, my precious little guy in the big wide world making his mark no matter how small, but a mark nonetheless. I'm not saying that your diagnosis changed any of that. If anything it made those dreams stronger. A desire burned in me as your protector to make absolutely sure those dreams were yours.

We were told at the 20 week scan that you had Talipes. I had never heard of it before and quite clearly this was written all over my face as the sonographer said 'Clubfoot, your baby has a clubbed foot'. Ok. Clubfoot. That's ok. I'm a bit of a stubborn soul, you'll come to learn this as you grow up, and I was cool as anything listening to how severe your foot was looking. I can take it, tell me everything, I'm a tough cookie.

Only I'm not.

I blamed myself for a very long time. Deep down, I still do.

I'm not special, Barney. Honestly I'm not. I'm not that strong either. I cry. A lot. But I'm yours and you can be damn sure that nothing will ever stop me doing my absolute best for you. I'm not going to lie to you, it's been bloody hard. It's been terrifying, incredible, relentless and tiring. You cry, you scream, you kick to get your boots off, you sometimes sob throughout the night, you tense and you moan but you smile and you grin and you make it all ok. I know you're in pain sometimes, especially with your blisters and sores, and I know you're uncomfortable. But I don't stop until I know you're ok. You sleep next to me each night so I can take the weight of your feet on my belly, comfort you when you wince and cuddle you tight when you need me. I massage your feet every night when you have your hour of freedom and kiss them before they go back into the boots. I revel in watching you splash in the bath with your sister and the pure joy across your face as your legs move independently of each other.

But what you don't see, Barney, is the pride and the admiration I have for you. You have learnt to roll over months before you should even be contemplating such a daring move. You try to crawl and are desperate to sit up unaided. I watch you trying these new skills over and over again and I see your smile when you succeed. You're just you. Despite having a label and despite being restricted both physically and practically, you're just a normal 4 month old baby giving your Mummy the run around. And we're doing ok, me and you. We have our bad days and we have our amazing days. One day you'll protest about your boots and the next you just giggle as I strap you in.

And those dreams are still the same. And you've no reason not to achieve anything your heart desires. You'll walk and you'll run and you'll no doubt stomp as you reach your teenage years. And I'll love every single step, my darling.

After all, it's just a bloody foot.

Mummy xxx