Darling Kate

At 4:17am this morning, my granddaughter was born.

She's so beautiful Kate. So very beautiful. Her eyes are like sapphire oceans, I could get lost in them until the end of time. Her perfect lips are a delicate rose, and they pucker adorably whenever she's hungry. She has a mess of dark hair. So much hair, Kate. Her skin is like porcelain. Her fingers are so tiny, but she had so much strength when she grasped one of mine. Already so much strength.

I'm in awe of her. I know you can probably tell. I know I didn't write to you for any of the milestones of Alexis' pregnancy. In truth, I've been saving them. I wanted to write one letter, group everything together. I wanted to be able to picture my granddaughter when I told you about the first nine months of her existence.

I'm not ashamed to admit it, I cried when Alexis told me. I cried with joy, but my tears were tinged with sorrow. Even then, the one moment I should have been entirely focusing on my daughter, you crept into my thoughts. I wept for you. I wept for the children you never got to have, the children that would have been so blessed to have you as their mother.

Every moment with Alexis on this incredible journey became a moment with you in my mind. Of course it would be different with you, she's my daughter, you're the love of my life, but the basic foundations are there.

Alexis struggled with morning sickness the first few months. I'd go round to her place to look after her when her husband had to be at work. I bet you would have been monstrous when the nausea took you. You would have screamed at me not to lay a hand on you. Yes, this whole time I've been allowing myself to imagine the children that you and I could have created. A ludicrous notion I know, but one that I find too alluring to dismiss.

I hope I would have been supportive. If your mood swings were anything like the ones that ravaged my daughter I would have been on quite the rollercoaster, but I would have stuck it out for you. Alexis would go from sobbing to laughing to angrier than I've ever seen her within the space of a few minutes. It was exhausting to watch, never mind how draining it must have been to suffer through.

The mood swings let up eventually, although they still plague her even now. She started to show. My daughter's body as it bloomed with the cherished life within was breathtaking.

It would have been tough for you. You often struggled to garner respect from suspects simply because of your gender and your beauty. Once your body started to show visible signs of the life within, you would have struggled to muster any respect from anyone. But when you came home and cried about it I would have assured you that you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

We would have fought ferociously. I would resent you for risking our child's life at work, and you would resent me for trying to strip you of your freedom. We would have compromised I know, but those fights would have stung. They wouldn't break us, nothing could have torn me from you once I had known what it was to hold you, but they would have hurt.

I wasn't there for the birth of my granddaughter, but I spent the whole time pacing back and forth in the waiting room.

You would have been stoic in labour. You wouldn't let a simple thing like agonising pain defeat you. I imagine you would have crushed my hand as the contractions tore through you and left you weak and gasping for breath, a concession to the pain.

I would have urged you to keep pushing, and you would have told me to shut up. I can just imagine it. I would say just one more push honey, you're doing so well. And you would scream I'd like to see you give one more push.

And when our child entered the world, I would have told you over and over how proud I was of you, how beautiful you looked. I would have cried unashamedly at the life we had created.

It hurts Kate. Knowing I won't have any more children. I loved every minute of raising Alexis. I always assumed I'd have more children one day. I know that technically I still could, but I won't. I didn't know it was possible to miss a possibility for the future, but I covet the life I never got to build with you with an aching intensity.

I walked in on Alexis and her husband once, curled on their sofa. She sat in the gap between his legs and his hands made lazy patterns on her stomach. And old black and white movie flickered in the background but I got the feeling that they were both more engrossed by their child than the movie. I can so easily picture us doing that. I can picture us doing all of it.

I can hear her crying. She's not here, she's still in the hospital and I'm in the loft. I'm not sure if it is her, or Alexis from the past, or the children from an unattainable future.

I was crying quietly in awe of my granddaughter, but when Alexis told me her name I broke down sobbing. Elsie Katherine. She's named after you. Alexis told me she wanted her daughter to have your strength, your kindness and your intelligence. She told me that she loved you, and she wanted her daughter to know that love. She said she fully intends to tell Elsie all about you. I don't know if I can handle that Kate.

You would have ridiculed my tears at my granddaughter, but I know that when we got home you would have held me. You would have reassured me that I wasn't old, that my life wasn't slipping away.

I need you now Kate. I love you.

Rick