I can’t even figure out what to call this post, I’ll come back to it. [I came back to it and titled it with my final thought.]
So I started my blog a bit over two years ago, to have an outlet for my thoughts and feelings that I’m not comfortable sharing in real life. Particularly the way I feel as I recover from losing our third son midway through pregnancy. While I still write about those things from time to time, it’s definitely got less.
That’s probably largely because I have been slowly recovering, in general I’m doing well. But also because I’ve been sucked into blogging; the conversations, the community and also the promotional side. That means I plan (sort of) my posts and write a day or two in advance. I’m posting less too, as I felt I was spending too much time blogging and was missing out on time I should be spending with the boys.
What all that comes down to is that I feel I’ve lost my spontaneity. Which defeats my purpose of setting up a blog in the first place.
So something’s been brewing in my emotions for a few weeks and it’s reaching the surface. I’m probably going to need a good cry sometime.
No more babies
That’s not news is it?
I know, himself knows, our parents and children know. There will be no more babies for me. Himself had the snip, it’s just not possible anymore. And it’s not sensible either. I know I would be an emotional, anxious wreck and would need plenty of medical care to prevent my incompetent cervix betraying me again.
But that’s just my rational self.
Emotionally, I would still love another baby in the house.
But recently, we had a massive clear out and sold many many baby bits at car boots and online. The walkers, the gym, the travel cot are all gone. Sold. We won’t ever need them again. I was ready. I thought I was ready. Now they’re gone and knowing they aren’t in the house just hammers home that there won’t be any more babies.
I haven’t been through all the baby clothes yet. I know I’m not ready for that. I kept some bits of the older clothes, my favourites and I’ll need to choose which baby bits to keep. Himself would happily just clear it all out, he’s not attached to the objects. But he’s giving me all the space and time I need.
As small boy gets bigger, he’s year 2 and will be 7 before this school year ends, the idea of another baby isn’t just impossible, it would be impractical too. Large boy is almost 10 and on the cusp of tweendom. Life is about to enter another phase for us, a step towards life before kids where we can stay out late, eat dinner later, do more adventurous things. Another baby would be a reset back to sleepless nights and vomit and slings and fights about food and potty training and toddler tantrums. We’re done with that.
Except there remains an allure of a baby kicking in my tummy, of that milky smell, midnight cuddles, no backchat, wonderful discoveries of walking and talking and joy in the tiny things.
It’s time though, now, for me to draw a line under that part of my life. Just as my childhood ended sometime in the early 1990s and my “young person” phase ended probably during my year living in Strasbourg as I discovered real independence and self-sufficiency, finding pleasure in my own company. Then adulthood came along and eventually “parent of small children”. I don’t think that label belongs to me anymore, and that makes me sad.
It’s time to graduate to “parent of middle-size children” – they aren’t “older”, yet. It feels a bit odd and I feel all at sea. I had got the hang of small children, I felt like I often knew what I was doing. This business of moodiness and grown up talk with large boy is all new. Whether he’s watching Bake Off live or explaining what his home will be like when he’s an adult, there’s no getting away from the fact that he’s no longer dedicated living at home forever. My closest mummy friends I met when small boy was a baby and they don’t have older children. A few other friends have older children who have already passed through this phase. I feel like I’m the only one out of our mummy group who’s going through this transition at the moment – I’m not close with the mum’s of the kids in his class, unfortunately.
Yeah, so that’s about the end of my rambling, stream of consciousness, back to my original blogging purpose post.
Any advice? Anyone?