Tag Archives: A Letter to my Daughter

A Letter To My Daughter Eva

10407523_10152510305736120_4705492640714526326_nWe had a Baby Naming Ceremony for Eva on Saturday, at The Unitarian Church at St. Stephen’s Green in Dublin. It’s a beautiful service, that concentrates solely on welcoming the child to the world, and leaves out all the religious stuff. ‘Coz Ass Monkey and I don’t dig the idea that babies are born with sin. Like, me hole.

I decided I would say a few words at the service, as Alan had done it for Jacob, and took to the good ol’ internet looking for inspiring poems or phrases that I could include. As is often the way, I got super sound advice from my mates on Facebook, who suggested that I pen my own letter to the gorgeous baby girl, as it would be a fab keepsake for her in years to come.

And so I did. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do, because you love them so much, and as a bonus, it can capture a snapshot of what is going on in the world at the time, how you feel about them, a little of the birth story, and even slag off your partner for TAKING HIS EFFING TIME when you went into labour ;o)

Here it is, enjoy, and thanks for the encouragement to do it!!

Sharyn x
Dear Eva,

On the night that I woke your dad at 1am to say that I felt you were on the way, you were already 9 days overdue. This is entirely my fault, as my mother informs me that I was born not one, not two, but THREE weeks overdue and have been late for every single moment of my life ever since! So that one, you have inherited from me.

After your dad finished his two sausage sandwiches (cough), we drove into the hospital and I remember turning onto the quays in Dublin City and remarking on how still the river was, and how pretty everything looked all lit up at night. At that same moment, you gave me a little kick & I knew that you were ok and we were going to get you into the world safe and sound.

Your dad and I were so overjoyed that we had a daughter that we cried and cried with happiness for hours. In fact, I carried on crying for a few weeks, any time I opened anything pretty and pink…. (hormones and happiness).

From the moment I met you, I said to everyone who would listen, ‘Look how strong she looks’. You were tough from Day 1; you had this sideward glance you gave us that said ‘Ok, whoever was in charge just got fired. I’m here now’. That one, you have inherited from your dad.

I have never seen your dad so in love as he is with you. He held you on the rocking chair for hours, every single evening for the first 12 weeks of your life when your little tummy pains kept you from sleep. I often attempt conversations with him now and watch his gaze drift off towards you, where he catches eyes with you and his whole face lights up. I would wager that Irish Water could call to the door, and so long as he’s happily distracted by you, he’d let them install TWO meters.

And your brother Jacob – well, he did ask for a long time where ‘Baby Brother’ was, but he has gotten very used to being the ‘best big brother in the world’ to his beautiful little sister. He is very kind and gentle with you, delighting in seeing if you’re awake every morning so that he can say ‘Hi, Poo Head!’ After we brought you home, he would introduce you to visitors by only giving them your full name. But as he couldn’t pronounce ‘Elizabeth’, he used to call you ‘Eva A Little Bit’. And we think that really suits.

So to Eva A Little Bit – welcome to our family and our hearts. M’iníon, mo ghrí, mo chroí.

Love from mum xxx 

PS: We spelled it EVA but pronounced it AVA, on purpose. You’re welcome ;o)

[Did you read ‘Mammy, Do You Have A Willy?!’ yet]