This summer will mark a whole decade since my daughter, my first baby, was born.

A decade since I was given the mummy title.

A decade since I first felt that overwhelming, heart-stopping, love and pride.

A decade since I held my baby for the first time.

Last weekend I took this photo of my now not so little one. Afterwards, I initially just thought it was a lovely, simple photo of her, but the more I look at it the more it generates an overwhelming mix of emotions.

I look at this photo and I feel pride, love, excitement, sadness, loss and joy all at the same time. How is that possible?

How did she get this grown up so fast?

How are her legs this long already?

How did she ever fit inside me?

Where have those ten years gone?

I’m so old!

She is so effortlessly beautiful.

I am so old!

How did the tiny, vulnerable and poorly baby I held in my arms a decade ago turn into this beautiful, clever, courageous, athletic, balletic and determined girl I see before me today – and how did that happen in the blink of an eye?

As much as this decade has flown by, it’s also hard to remember a time when I didn’t have my children and the responsibility that comes with them.

A decade of motherhood has taught me a great deal about life, about children, about myself, and this is the girl that kick started that journey.