Little Fighter

Today is the day that I got a panicked phonecall saying Georgia had gone into labor, the baby was on his way, far too early. Today is the day I honestly thought my friends baby was going to die. Baby Harley was born weighing 1lb 4oz, his chances of survival were low. I remember waiting for news after every operation. I remember printing a picture of him off and keeping it in my purse, it’s still there. I remember the first time I went to see him in hospital, he was three months old, and tiny. I remember standing and watching his tiny chest rise and fall, I studied his fingers, his toes, his tiny features, he was perfect. The next time I saw him was 3 months later, he’d been taken off a ventilator, and was in a hospital closer to home, I could cuddle him, I visited him three days consecutively. I remember crying when he was allowed home, with his mummy, where he belonged. I got the train home the next day so I could see him. And now that little baby is one, it’s gone so quick, and I am so unbelievably proud to be his godmother. His strength and determination is incredible, he’s had a rough start in life, but is now so smiley and happy. And there are no words to describe his mummy, seriously. She’s amazing. And I’m so proud that she’s my friend. Happy Birthday Harley-Chase. I love you to the moon and back.