Love Letters from Heather

To my darling granddaughter, Nora Belle.

You almost didn’t arrive safely. Your mom couldn’t feel you move a couple of days before your birth. She went in to get checked but was sent back home a while later.

You were nearly lost at birth. Emergency C-section with cord around your neck three times, complete with a knot in it. Your mother didn’t know how touch and go it was until the OB came to talk to her well after the delivery.

But you wanted to be here, and here you are! You are my payback to your mother. You are as stubborn as she was as a child, and you ignite my belief in karma when you display your strength of will. It is awesome! “Revenge is mine,” sayeth me to your mom.

You are named after your great grandma. Belle is her middle name, too! You have the absolute best smile, and I melt every time I see you light up when you see me.

You do everything in your own time, “Nora-time” as the pediatrician calls it. You have the medical world in a state of wonderment, trying to figure you out. That’s okay. They don’t need to figure you out as long as you know your own mind!

We share an affinity, you and me, for firefighters. Or should I be more specific and say firemen. I am sure you have never heard the story about your own mother setting my house on fire when she was probably around 20.

I had purchased my very first home that was solely mine. While I was out, your mom put something in the oven, then popped out to quickly shovel the driveway. She was not aware that the front door automatically locked if you didn’t release the doorknob first. Upon clearing the short lane, she went to go inside, only to be met with panic. It didn’t take long for whatever was in the oven to burn, filling the hallway with smoke. Your mom found a neighbour and the fire department was called. Luckily, they were able to remove a sliding door in the back, and not too much damage occurred. Can you imagine how surprised I was when I got home?

But here is the thing. Besides telling me about the incident, your mom also mentioned the firefighters. Of course, they were strong, professional, helpful. But your mom may have also noticed a few other pleasing attributes. It has been a standing joke in our family ever since.

Remember when we went to the grocery store and the firetruck was in the parking lot? We went and asked for a tour for you! You loved it. Whenever you see a firetruck you yell, “Firetruck! Firetruck!”

You were only two. The firefighters were kind, gave you a little tour. You got a selfie and a colouring book. You were in your glee.

The very next day I received a call from your dad. He told me your mom, you, and your baby brother were in a car accident. He was on his way and suggested I get there, too. I rushed to the scene. My heart dropped to my toes. Thinking it was just a little fender bender, I found myself panicking when I saw several police cruisers, a couple of firetrucks, and scores of suited firefighters. I yelled across the intersection at one of them. “Are they okay?”

A thumbs-up relieved my fears. When I managed to safely make it to your car, I saw your shaking mother holding your brother, then handing him to your dad, crying. But you. You were anything but crying.

To you, this was just an extension of yesterday’s firetruck tour. You held your new stuffed animal, given to you courtesy of the attending crew. You were busy entertaining the firefighter right outside the sliding car door. You were giggling, babbling at him, and every now and then you broke into a full-on dance routine, followed by intense giggling once again. You were being such a flirt. In your mind, this was the Best. Day. Ever.

I often contemplate what this might have felt like for you if that firetruck hadn’t been in the grocery store parking lot the previous day. Was that a divine gift, planting the seed that would grow into comfort and joy the next day when trauma and fear could have prevailed?

Later, for your birthday, your mom would make arrangements for you to visit the local fire station, sharing cupcakes with the crew, even making it to their Twitter feed. Halloween. What would you dress up as? Firefighter.

I love that you are stubborn. I love that you do things in your own time. I love your giggle. I love your firefighter obsession. I love your name! But you are more than the sum of your parts. Even though I love all these things about you, I also just love YOU.

I have no idea what started this interest in firetrucks, then firefighters. Maybe you are your own kind of fighter. You defy the odds. Difficult birth—you are here anyway. Medical questions—you continue to develop despite them. Strong-willed personality—you continue to endear people to you regardless.

Sound the sirens, here comes Nora Belle!

Happy Valentine’s Day,

Bugga

PS. There are more words in the English language than just “no.” I am looking forward to the day you will discover this!

~

Love Letters from Heather is a series. If you enjoyed this piece, consider reading some others:

To my son, Jason

To my middle daughter, Candice

To my daughter, Charity