Giovanna Fletcher - Letters on Motherhood: The heartwarming and inspiring collection of letters perfect for Mothers Day

Billy and Me

Youre the One that I Want

Always with Love

Dream a Little Dream

Some Kind of Wonderful

Eve of Man (with Tom Fletcher)

The Eve Illusion (with Tom Fletcher)

Christmas with Billy and Me

Dream a Little Christmas Dream

Happy Mum, Happy Baby

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First published by Michael Joseph 2020
Published in Penguin Books 2021

Copyright Giovanna Fletcher, 2020
Cover design by Lisa Brewster Author photo Oliver Rosser

The moral right of the author has been asserted

ISBN: 978-0-241-39860-9

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the authors and publishers rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

To my three little loves and the men youll become.

I will forever be yours,

Love, Mumma xxx

Dear Buzz, Buddy and Max,

When I was pregnant with each of you I used to write you letters. Your dad and I would take it in turns to scribble in a book when we got into bed at night. The books themselves werent anything special theyd always be empty notebooks we already had in the house but wed write about our day, what was going on in our lives and highlight key moments. Like telling people about being pregnant with you, scans, how my body was coping and first kicks. It was a good way for us to document what was happening at that time, and for us to focus on each of you and wonder what life would be like when you arrived.

Those books are yours to keep (you have one each). Ill be honest here: sometimes I was so tired my writing might be illegible, and Max, sadly yours is half the length of Buzzs, but thats being the third child for you. Looking after Buzz and Buddy (and trying to cram in my work) left me so knackered I was too tired to write an entry most nights, but thats no reflection of my unconditional love for you. If we ever go for a fourth child, well be asking you three to write the letters instead, because otherwise your sibling will get a blank book!

The first entry in Buzzs book was the start of our path to becoming your parents. Id already gone through a miscarriage, and a huge part of me was scared I wouldnt get to hold you in my arms either. I always knew I wanted to write letters to you before you were born and beyond but I waited until I was over fourteen weeks pregnant to start, just in case. I had to wait for a time when I felt safe, when I had higher hopes that youd one day be reading them, even if you were going to find them highly embarrassing. My heart was already full of love and hope for you, and I was worried that by writing to you I was tempting Fate. I no longer believe in such nonsense. I actually think writing earlier and voicing those thoughts wouldve helped me process my fears a lot quicker. It wouldve helped me deal with my anxiety over carrying you. But not to worry, were all here now.

Writing letters, for me, is a therapeutic way to reflect on the past, be in the present and hope for the future. Motherhood is a massive part of who I am, so I thought I would start writing letters to you and others in my life whove got me to this point, and who give me the drive to fill our future with happiness.

We dont say how we feel or talk about matters of the heart often enough. We dont unashamedly share our hopes and fears.

Life is so busy even your young lives are jam-packed with school, nursery, playdates and parties and sometimes its just nice to stop and write. Theres something so magical about letters and the way they capture a particular moment or thought even if that thought is a fleeting one, its bound for ever and shared.

Im a total sucker for over-sharing: once I start saying how I feel or what Im doing, I cant stop. At birthdays and Christmas I cant just sign my name in a card and leave it at that. I gush over the recipient all my thoughts and feelings come tumbling out as I thank them for being who they are and shower them with love.

So, enjoy these letters. These encapsulated thoughts. These ponderings and findings.

Some are for you, and some for others: the other mums who find themselves burying their faces in the kitchen cupboard, feeling overwhelmed, tired and desperate to be enough unsure whether to laugh or cry, and needing to know theyre not on their own. They arent.

Therell be some sense in there. Therell be some nonsense too. I hope therell be things in my letters thatll help you understand my past and how I came to be yours.

Love you,

Mumma xxx

Dear Boys,

You probably dont really think about the love between your dad and me. I imagine its a bit of a weird concept to think of a love being shared thats different from the love we have for you. Seeing as you were born out of that love, I feel I should delve a little deeper into our history, and how things have developed over the last twenty-one years.

On my first day at Sylvia Young Theatre School I was ushered into a studio of one hundred and fifty excited children, all giddy at being back at school with their mates after the summer holidays. I was bang on time after power-walking from the station, thanks to a delayed train, and was feeling anxious and nervous at being the new kid.

My year group, all twenty-two of Year Nine, were sitting lengthways across the hall in the middle of the other classes.

Christine, the matron, took my name and led me to my spot, which correlated with the alphabetical place my name fell in the register. I was placed next to your dad and his friend Jason Green. There was something instantly likeable about your dad. Perhaps it was the way his pink cheeks constantly looked like they were blushing, the way his silky blond hair fell into perfect curtains either side of his face, or the fact he was wearing the cheekiest of grins and his eyes shone as he spoke to me.