As Milly's birthday approached, Elaine and I could remember almost every detail of the week leading up to Milly's arrival. It had been an eventful week really, so that helped. It's one of those parental contradictions that while Milly has been with for over a year now, it is hard to remember what it was like without her and yet it seems to have gone past in the blink of an eye. I remember being at work when Elaine called to say that the midwife was sending her up to the hospital. I remember where I was, what I was doing, who walked past, and who I spoke to before I left. On the day Milly was born, I remember what I was doing when Elaine phoned to say it was time. I remember having to wait 6 hours because Elaine had eaten some Rice Krispies, and this time going really fast. I remember getting ready to go into the operating theatre and how bright and shiny it was, and I remember hearing Milly for the first time along with the relief of knowing that she was OK. Of course, I also remember having my first cuddle with Milly and My Girl being on the radio just after 3 o'clock (I listened to that a lot in the week up to her birthday). 
Milly's stay in the hospital seemed to last a long time, yet it was just a little over a week. I remember being torn between Elaine and Milly while Elaine was immobile (luckily this wasn't too long). I remember each time I got to hold her, and being fascinated by just watching her move in her little fish-tank. I also remember the panic over being told that Milly had been moved to the 'Special Care' room, which was apparently a good thing and a sign that she was getting stronger. I remember the guilt of coming home late one night while Milly was still awake, and phoning up the NICU later to check that she had settled OK. I remember the surprise of being told that if we spent the night at the hospital with Milly, we could take her home the next day, and the rush to get home, get packed, and prepare her bottles. I will never forget the pressure we felt to get everything right while we stayed in the hospital, to prove that Milly would be safe with us if they let us bring her home, and the score sheet that we had to fill in every time we fed or changed Milly. 
The only memory that detracts from the joy of how well everything turned out is going home on at the end of the day after she was born. The doctors and nurses were convinced that she would be with her mummy later that evening as she was so strong, so I went home to get some rest and prepare for our first proper day together as a family. When I think about what Milly had to go through that night without her Mummy or Daddy, it tears me up and I struggle to forgive myself for leaving her alone and sitting at her side through the night. I am well aware that this is irrational, that there was no way I could have known if the Doctors didn't. But that is how it makes me feel, and I have promised Milly that she never have to be on own like that again.
Looking at Milly now makes it hard to remember the worries we had in the first few months. Worries about whether she was gaining enough weight, worries over letting her near anyone with a cold, about how long we should let her sleep at night before waking her for a bottle. It's easy to say now that she has not been held back by being premature, she is an independent, strong, and intelligent little girl, but is that because of how we protected her in the first few months? Is it the worry that made us more attentive to giving her what she needed and covering every base? We may have been that way regardless, but all of the worries are part of the journey that has made Milly who she is at 1 year old, and I would not exchange that for anything.
When it came to Milly's birthday, I'm not sure she knew that the day was any different to all the rest. She had plenty of fun, but she always does. On the Saturday before, we had a small party for her with lashings of cakes, jelly and ice-cream. On her birthday, Elaine and I took her to The Deep in Hull. She loved it!!! There were loads of fish for her to watch swimming around, she even took it up herself to shout at a few of them if she felt that they weren't moving fast enough. Of course she got spoiled with presents, we were the biggest culprits in that respect. Actually, it was probably me. I kept coming up with reasons for buying a present besides it being her birthday, Charlie tunnel day (the day Elaine went into hospital) and then homecoming day. Those days felt just as important to me, and while they will not mean anything to Milly as she grows up, I will not let go of them.
In writing this blog, I have tried to avoid the usual clichés that get thrown around when talking about children. But some things become clichéd because they often repeated as they are true, and if you mean it, it can't be a cliché (that's my rule anyway!!!). So, as I reach the end of this blog, at the end of Milly's first year, I will share my biggest cliché. Children are a gift. They provide pure joy at all times. They push our limits, and they can make us question ourselves, but they love us unconditionally as long as we keep them safe, give them food, and keep them entertained. The smile from your child when you get home from work makes the late nights and early mornings worth it. It's not easy at times, but the best things aren't supposed to be. 