close
SM-Stamp-Join-1
  • Selfish Mother is the most brilliant blogging platform. Join here for free & you can post a blog within minutes. We don't edit or approve your words before they go live - it's up to you. And, with our cool new 'squares' design - you can share your blog to Instagram, too. What are you waiting for? Come join in! We can't wait to read what YOU have to say...

  • Your basic information

  • Your account information

View as: GRID LIST

Will you hold me more?

1
 

 

For almost three years, it was just the two of us. A blur of walks, splashing, shared food, laughter, stories and a plethora of shared experiences. Hazy long summer days and warm and contented winters. Memories made to last a life time. His first steps, his first run, the first giggle, the teeth and the tantrums. The trees he climbed, the waves he ran in, the soil he played in, the scraped knees, woolly hats and scuffed shoes. All these were done together, partners in crime.

Then, I became pregnant again and whilst filled with

SelfishMother.com
2
joy, things changed and I confess that I felt pangs of sadness. This shift occurred simultaneously with the flash of those much celebrated two pink lines on a stick. It wouldn’t be the two of us any more. I wanted to desperately hold on to our bond but acutely aware that the dynamic was to change.

Please do not read into this a sense of ungratefulness. I personally understood the difficulties of poor fertility, miscarriage and labour and I understood that all consuming desire to mother. It is simply that I cherished my longed for son and wanted to

SelfishMother.com
3
retain the status quo.

During those nine months, I didn’t feel that I could run as fast or play in the same way. I was more tentative and considered. He was more gentle and aware of the burgeoning bump beneath my jumper. So his dad enjoyed the running, the wrestles and the carrying. I felt a little bit lost, left behind and unable to fully emerse myself in the rambunctious shenanigans of the yestermonth. A bit like someone on the sidelines, who holds on to the T shirts but never plays the game.

A large bump and weary pelvis, my son looked at me

SelfishMother.com
4
”You will carry me more when the baby comes, won’t you mum?” Questioning with large pleading eyes. I felt like I’d let him down. Like he was yearning for his gung ho mucker to give him donkey rides again whilst running up hills. A bit disappointed by his tired and heavy mum. It was hard to keep the same level of energy and finesse of my pre pregnant self. I’m not suggesting that I’m a protagonist in a Blyton romp- all ginger beer and wild camping. I’m talking of a trip to the park or a play in the garden. I balance the domestic normalcy like
SelfishMother.com
5
everyone else but with a dollop of fresh air- for my benefit as much as his.

So what did I tell a child who was clearly feeling the sharp nudge of an unborn sibling?

I held his hand and told him that the little child inside his mummy would soon be his playmate and before long he or she would be joining us on our adventures. I was met with a glazed look. I’m not sure that he could truly contemplate the changes afoot.

The baby came and with feeding, she spent a lot of time asleep on my knee, nestled in a sling or cradled in my arms. I lost count

SelfishMother.com
6
of the number of times I had my son perched on my knee too whilst feeding the hungry newborn. How many times I stroked his face as if in guilty apology for the time I was spending with his sister. He’d always ask me to fix his fire engine whilst I was feeding or to butter his toast when my hands were busy. I felt unable to be truly present.

I yearned for time with him and him alone. I missed him. I missed it being just us. So, one particular Saturday morning between feeds, I bundled him into the car and we trundled to the supermarket for his dad’s

SelfishMother.com
7
birthday cake. I recall racing trolleys in the car park with wild abandon. I saw the look of happiness on his face. I vowed to do more of that. It was a shopping trip but it felt amazing. Just us again.

I am proud of him. He never took his lack of attention out on his sister. He only showers her with his version of loud and lary love. The bond between them is so strong already and they are busy forging the warmest of familial ties. I well up when I watch them together and I wonder what kind of friends they will be.

In the mean time, in the middle

SelfishMother.com
8
of our busy and hectic family life, I try to forge time for my first born. Holding onto the comfort of those secret, precious days that we have already shared. Like a palimpsest. No amount of baby related paraphernalia can erase those moments. They are the shadows and crayola etchings that underpin who we both are today.

As the little one becomes more independent with each passing day, I feel more able to mother them both in equal measures. Yet secretly, I can’t  help but feel excited about the years to come.

I am reluctant to while away the time

SelfishMother.com
9
but there is a part of me who is SO keen to put both of them on my shoulders and to run. Run like the wind.

Maybe in a trolley.

SelfishMother.com

By

This blog was originally posted on SelfishMother.com - why not sign up & share what's on your mind, too?

Why not write for Selfish Mother, too? You can sign up for free and post immediately.


We regularly share posts on @SelfishMother Instagram and Facebook :)

- 7 Mar 16

 


 

For almost three years, it was just the two of us. A blur of walks, splashing, shared food, laughter, stories and a plethora of shared experiences. Hazy long summer days and warm and contented winters. Memories made to last a life time. His first steps, his first run, the first giggle, the teeth and the tantrums. The trees he climbed, the waves he ran in, the soil he played in, the scraped knees, woolly hats and scuffed shoes. All these were done together, partners in crime.

Then, I became pregnant again and whilst filled with joy, things changed and I confess that I felt pangs of sadness. This shift occurred simultaneously with the flash of those much celebrated two pink lines on a stick. It wouldn’t be the two of us any more. I wanted to desperately hold on to our bond but acutely aware that the dynamic was to change.

Please do not read into this a sense of ungratefulness. I personally understood the difficulties of poor fertility, miscarriage and labour and I understood that all consuming desire to mother. It is simply that I cherished my longed for son and wanted to retain the status quo.

During those nine months, I didn’t feel that I could run as fast or play in the same way. I was more tentative and considered. He was more gentle and aware of the burgeoning bump beneath my jumper. So his dad enjoyed the running, the wrestles and the carrying. I felt a little bit lost, left behind and unable to fully emerse myself in the rambunctious shenanigans of the yestermonth. A bit like someone on the sidelines, who holds on to the T shirts but never plays the game.

A large bump and weary pelvis, my son looked at me “You will carry me more when the baby comes, won’t you mum?” Questioning with large pleading eyes. I felt like I’d let him down. Like he was yearning for his gung ho mucker to give him donkey rides again whilst running up hills. A bit disappointed by his tired and heavy mum. It was hard to keep the same level of energy and finesse of my pre pregnant self. I’m not suggesting that I’m a protagonist in a Blyton romp- all ginger beer and wild camping. I’m talking of a trip to the park or a play in the garden. I balance the domestic normalcy like everyone else but with a dollop of fresh air- for my benefit as much as his.

So what did I tell a child who was clearly feeling the sharp nudge of an unborn sibling?

I held his hand and told him that the little child inside his mummy would soon be his playmate and before long he or she would be joining us on our adventures. I was met with a glazed look. I’m not sure that he could truly contemplate the changes afoot.

The baby came and with feeding, she spent a lot of time asleep on my knee, nestled in a sling or cradled in my arms. I lost count of the number of times I had my son perched on my knee too whilst feeding the hungry newborn. How many times I stroked his face as if in guilty apology for the time I was spending with his sister. He’d always ask me to fix his fire engine whilst I was feeding or to butter his toast when my hands were busy. I felt unable to be truly present.

I yearned for time with him and him alone. I missed him. I missed it being just us. So, one particular Saturday morning between feeds, I bundled him into the car and we trundled to the supermarket for his dad’s birthday cake. I recall racing trolleys in the car park with wild abandon. I saw the look of happiness on his face. I vowed to do more of that. It was a shopping trip but it felt amazing. Just us again.

I am proud of him. He never took his lack of attention out on his sister. He only showers her with his version of loud and lary love. The bond between them is so strong already and they are busy forging the warmest of familial ties. I well up when I watch them together and I wonder what kind of friends they will be.

In the mean time, in the middle of our busy and hectic family life, I try to forge time for my first born. Holding onto the comfort of those secret, precious days that we have already shared. Like a palimpsest. No amount of baby related paraphernalia can erase those moments. They are the shadows and crayola etchings that underpin who we both are today.

As the little one becomes more independent with each passing day, I feel more able to mother them both in equal measures. Yet secretly, I can’t  help but feel excited about the years to come.

I am reluctant to while away the time but there is a part of me who is SO keen to put both of them on my shoulders and to run. Run like the wind.

Maybe in a trolley.

Did you enjoy this post? If so please support the writer: like, share and comment!


Why not join the SM CLUB, too? You can share posts & events immediately. It's free!

A mother and Drama teacher. Best things in life- My children when they first wake, sitting on the beach at sunset, drinking prosecco with my mum, climbing a mountain, laughter, a vintage dress, a nostalgic piece of music, walking into my little town and seeing familiar faces, holding hands with Mr K.

Post Tags


Keep up to date with Selfish Mother — Sign up for our newsletter and follow us on social media