Friday, July 14, 2017

Grace is lying next to me. She’s an hour in to her morning nap. I am looking down at her, her hair is damp and stuck to her flawless little face, her little rosebud mouth is pursed in the perfect “O”, her chubby little hands are sticking out from under the duvet and she’s making the sweetest little cooing sounds. I am looking down at her and I am filled with breathtaking sadness because I know this is the last time I will be looking down at a little baby sleeping in my bed.

Regan and I have arrived at a crossroads – a sacred place – where we are faced with two paths, one we know well, the path of fertility (with it’s excitement, pregnancy tests, nausea, swollen breasts and little kicks) and the other, “the afterward” I guess, this path we don’t know at all. It’s the path of vasectomies and raising teens and high school and puberty and no more babies… and while we are starting to walk down this new, terrifying path, I can’t stop looking back, with my hand outstretched and a silent cry stuck in my throat.

Wait. Just wait. I don’t think I am ready to say goodbye.

Flip, here come the tears.

You see, all my life I have wanted 3 kids. It’s the family I set out to have. It’s the family I carried in my heart since I was a little girl. I knew that this life already existed for me and it was just waiting patiently until I was ready to live it. Every first date I went on, every boyfriend I had, I wondered…. Is he the one? The one with whom I would build this life that already lived in my heart? And then I met Regan and I knew (even though it was 14 years ago) I knew he was the one. Now we’ve had 5 years of being parents to two new humans, and we have decided that two is all there will ever be. Regan is turning 40 next year, we are anxious to get to know our kids, we are anxious to give them all the attention and love they crave (equally, because right now Grace is more demanding than Sophie), we want to build them the perfect bedroom, we want to go to Disneyland, we want to live a life unencumbered by pregnancy and nappies and breastfeeding and sleep schedules. But the finality of it is ripping my heart to shreds. My third baby still lives in my heart and I just don’t feel ready to completely say goodbye.

I have shut the door on having another child, but there’s still a bit of light trickling in.

My body has built two hearts, four lungs two brains, countless eyelashes and two perfect souls. My body has grown the ovaries that will one day be my grandchildren. My body has given birth to two flawless children. My breast have nourished and fed. And now? What will my body do now? This has been its most important job. Nothing I do now will compare to the wonder and awe of giving two souls life. These early days of motherhood are so much a part of who I have become, I struggle to think who I will be when I say goodbye to this part of my life. 

I know that I will never need an 8-seater kitchen table.
I know that I will never need a 4 bedroom house.
I know that I will never have more than 4 Christmas stockings hanging on our mantle.
I know that Grace is the last baby I will hold that will be all mine.

My life right now can be described as desperate. Because I am desperately holding on. I am holding on to every nappy change, every bum wipe, ever cry, every gurgle, every cuddle, every night spent rocking her to sleep in my arms. She is sprinting towards her toddler years and I am just trying to catch my breath and savor every second.

I am not a nostalgic person. I don’t spend time reminiscing. I don’t talk about “the good old days” but yesterday I cleaned out the chest of drawers and packed away some of Gracie’s clothes that no longer fit her and I caught myself in crying, no… actually: sobbing. Sobbing into a onesie because time is pulling the rug out from under me and I’m just not ready.

While I know that this new path will come with it’s own sense of wonder, I also know that it will not be the same. I will not be the same. I have enjoyed this first half of motherhood so much, bringing my babies into the world is something I am good at. This second half of motherhood is much more daunting, I don’t know what I am doing. My kisses won’t fix everything. A cuddle won’t always make your pain go away and I will no longer be the center of your worlds. So now I am looking back, something I never do, and my heart is so full of love and I know that this love and these memories of this first half of my real life is all I will need to get me through this difficult goodbye.


  1. You know I always love reading your blogs.
    Sometimes I actually go back and reread them again just for a reminder that I am not alone on my journey, yes 3 kids are simply not affordable, yes we want to give them the best and school fees are such a nightmare when you have to decide model C or private and what does the budget actually allow.
    But in the end you watch them sleeping and think noooooo stay this way forever.
    I was actually crying reading this particular blog because I deep down (will never admit this to anyone) I want like 5 kids and I know that right now in the next 2 years because of my change in career its just not possible.
    I wanted to never have to miss a single thing and watch my babies dance everyday to Barney and Sophia the first, but as a career driven woman its just not possible so instead, her creche teacher sends me daily videos of her dance moves and how she brushes her teeth properly by herself.
    I know that in the long run it will all be worth it but its still heartbreaking now, thank you for making me feel like I'm not crying alone and am not the only mother in the world that has very crazy days.

  2. Totally understand the sentiment! Great photos! What a stunning face!

  3. Wow. Thank you so much for sharing Nikki. This really hit the nail on the head. Its exactly how I've been feeling


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