Certain moments of motherhood are synonymous with tears, I’m quite the cryer so maybe mine more than others. As I sat in tears writing this I reflected on this point of change and of all the transition points, the high emotion of this one maybe isn’t acknowledged as much as others…
Those early days of juggling two under two seemed relentless. Time numbs the memories of exhaustion now and rose tints them slightly even, convincing me that they were precious and treasured when in reality, they felt never-ending and time to myself, which I’m about to have an abundance of, then seemed only a distant, hopeless dream.
Now our lasts begin. My daughter is so excited and so ready for the next step. She is quick and bright and feisty and desperate for the structure school will provide. She makes me so proud with her confidence but selfishly, every one of her firsts marks a last for me. The last day I’ll have a preschooler, our last day grabbing carrot cake secretly while her big brother is at school, the last settling session, the last first day.
I know that I still have many firsts ahead and many new experiences to share with them both but this marks a whole section of my life that is over now.
I’ll never be the proud protector of a newborn again or marvel at the new words my toddler masters. No nappies fill our drawers or bottles line our cupboards, bright plastic plates are now just spares and real cutlery replaces its mini counterparts.
My days are no longer filled with mini people, tantrums or laughter. It’s just me now. I know this opens up a multitude of opportunities, the chance to retrain, follow my dreams or maybe just manage to unstack the dishwasher before teatime but I’m not quite ready to see these positives yet.
I know I’ll find my way. I don’t have another choice. But excuse me if you find me a little lost temporarily. I’m just not sure who I’m meant to be right now and my heart is a little broken 💔
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