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As we start to get into the new year swing I find myself, as always, looking ahead to my girl’s birthdays. The month of March is a busy one for us and I cannot believe my youngest shall be turning two. Two feels like a huge milestone. This time last year I was nursing a baby. I was planning a first birthday party, but she really was still so little. Two years, well, that is just a whole different ball game. My ’baby’ is now holding conversations. She is making things independently- she is definitely not a baby anymore.
While a piece of me will
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always feel sad that I no longer have ’babies’, that my children are growing up, another part of me feels slightly relieved. I feel more like me again. Sleep, on the whole, has improved. I am no longer walking around in a dream like state. I am beginning to have a social life again! Shock horror! While I was doing some spring cleaning this week I came across a short verse that I had written when my second child was only a matter of weeks old. It was scrawled (badly) late at night as she fed, on a scrap of paper. Reading it bought back a flood of
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emotions, reminding me how hard those early sleepless nights could be. The nights when you felt like you were the only person awake in the world. The resentment I felt towards those sleeping (primarily my husband snoring beside me). While the verse is poorly written I wanted to share it, to let others that may be at this stage in life know that they are not alone.
The witching hour
You woke up, I was there, held you tight, and you latched on.
The adrenaline from the birth all gone, I am tired and in despair.
The house is quiet, my husband
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still, did he hear you wake?
I scowl through the darkness at his peaceful sleep, wishing I was dreaming too.
Your pale blue eyes are watching me, you gulp down your feed.
I long for you to finish, terrified of drifting to sleep.
Fumbling for my phone, keen to know the time, the display too bright,
Ten to three, the witching hour arrives.
In my head I do the maths, only two hours so far,
In less than three we will be up. The tears sting behind my eyes.
I am so very tired now, I plead, just a few more hours.
You have stopped
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suckling and your beautiful face fixes on me.
Your plump little fingers reach out and wrap themselves around mine.
My heart, so full of love for you, I hold you in my arms.
Mummy is struggling tonight, my head so needs to rest,
But every second of my sleeplessness, worth every one of your breaths.
The night shifts as a new mum are by far the hardest, I honestly can’t remember when they changed for us, but it’s been a while! They will get better, but in the meantime sending huge hugs to those that are there right now.
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Sarah Jarman - 13 Jan 17
As we start to get into the new year swing I find myself, as always, looking ahead to my girl’s birthdays. The month of March is a busy one for us and I cannot believe my youngest shall be turning two. Two feels like a huge milestone. This time last year I was nursing a baby. I was planning a first birthday party, but she really was still so little. Two years, well, that is just a whole different ball game. My ‘baby’ is now holding conversations. She is making things independently- she is definitely not a baby anymore.
While a piece of me will always feel sad that I no longer have ‘babies’, that my children are growing up, another part of me feels slightly relieved. I feel more like me again. Sleep, on the whole, has improved. I am no longer walking around in a dream like state. I am beginning to have a social life again! Shock horror! While I was doing some spring cleaning this week I came across a short verse that I had written when my second child was only a matter of weeks old. It was scrawled (badly) late at night as she fed, on a scrap of paper. Reading it bought back a flood of emotions, reminding me how hard those early sleepless nights could be. The nights when you felt like you were the only person awake in the world. The resentment I felt towards those sleeping (primarily my husband snoring beside me). While the verse is poorly written I wanted to share it, to let others that may be at this stage in life know that they are not alone.
The witching hour
You woke up, I was there, held you tight, and you latched on.
The adrenaline from the birth all gone, I am tired and in despair.
The house is quiet, my husband still, did he hear you wake?
I scowl through the darkness at his peaceful sleep, wishing I was dreaming too.
Your pale blue eyes are watching me, you gulp down your feed.
I long for you to finish, terrified of drifting to sleep.
Fumbling for my phone, keen to know the time, the display too bright,
Ten to three, the witching hour arrives.
In my head I do the maths, only two hours so far,
In less than three we will be up. The tears sting behind my eyes.
I am so very tired now, I plead, just a few more hours.
You have stopped suckling and your beautiful face fixes on me.
Your plump little fingers reach out and wrap themselves around mine.
My heart, so full of love for you, I hold you in my arms.
Mummy is struggling tonight, my head so needs to rest,
But every second of my sleeplessness, worth every one of your breaths.
The night shifts as a new mum are by far the hardest, I honestly can’t remember when they changed for us, but it’s been a while! They will get better, but in the meantime sending huge hugs to those that are there right now.
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Primarily a Mum, aspiring Author, Freelance Writer and Artist, Blogger, Foodie and Jewellery Designer just having fun doing all the things I love! My portfolio available to view over on my website www.saspsdesigns.com
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