A Marguerite on a marigold! (in the sweetest little une belle epoque dress and Poet's little bonnet)
Tomorrow will mark exactly one year since Marguerite's 'due date'. This time last year I was waiting eagerly for the arrival of -in addition to my second child - my best friend, Miriam, who was travelling up from Sydney for the birth. Little did we know that our little daisy had other plans. One frustrating week later, Miriam gave my ripe belly a final goodbye rub and boarded a plane back to Sydney. Four days after that I was induced and our sweet girl was born the next day.
Marguerite arrived almost two weeks late and now that I know her, it's plain to see that she was never going to be punctual; this girl is in no hurry. There's so much I want to share with you about this sweet baby and her funny ways, but I'll leave that for a birthday post in a couple of weeks time (and in the meantime I'll try not to get eaten up by the mother-guilt of not having documented her first year anywhere near as wholly and wonderfully as her sisters! I'm hoping this slew of photos makes up for it?!).
I'm really struggling to find the words to describe my experience this past year. Life has thrown her best and worst moments at me. The first six months of Marguerite's life were so perfect and as a mother I felt well in myself; confident, content, present. As the weeks went on, these positive feelings were suffocated by a thick fog that crept up and engulfed me... and although I never once felt disconnected from my girls (they really are my shining light) at times I felt I couldn't see, couldn't breathe; I had stumbled off my path and I couldn't find my way home.
I'm still somewhere in the fog, but as I come full circle on my first year as a mother of two, I am starting to notice the murky haze slowly dissipate, making way for the warm, welcoming glow of gratitude.